


Ilaurenda the Golden Heart

by Artfreak201



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: AU - Durins survive BOFA, AU - Smaug has offspring, Creative licensing on Genders, Dragon Soul-Bonds, Dragons were once a dominant species, F/M, Genderbending, M/M, Magic, Mpreg, Tooks have Fae blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artfreak201/pseuds/Artfreak201
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something else that Bilbo Baggins finds next to the Arkenstone, there in the chamber of the great dragon. Something looking like an uncut golden gem larger than the Heart of the Mountain, but not nearly as flawless as the Arkenstone. He does not know its origin or what it is in the slightest, but he steals the precious gems away with the roar of the beast behind him. After the battle of five armies he quickly finds that his adventure is not done, like he had thought it to be. Later he calls it Ilaurënda, The Golden Heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ilaurenda

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! You may remember me, and this fiction, from many, many months ago. I'm sorry to have abandoned the story, but I had been in a car accident and it left me rather traumatized. I'm still suffering from mental health issues that got stirred up with the crash, so forgive me if updates take a while. 
> 
> Ilaurenda the Golden Heart is not the same as it once was. No longer is it a Bilbo / Thorin fiction, but rather a Bilbo / Fili fiction. The plot has changed, as well, as I lost all my notes to the original fiction when my laptop was stolen about a month ago. 
> 
> I do hope you enjoy this work, as I am putting much heart and effort into it. :)

  
Piles of treasure and a renowned Arkenstone were little compared to the treasure that Smaug carried with him to the mountain of Erebor, nestled under his tongue for warmth and safe keeping. He had no fear of crushing the frightfully small thing under the weight of the muscle, for dragon eggs were as sturdy as the gems they mimicked, simply larger in size than one. About the size of a mortal's head, the egg was still an ant to one's boot when compared to Smaug. No one would even know he had the thing with him, and his true intention for overtaking the Lonely Mountain. For all that gems and gold were worth to a dragon, nothing was more precious than an egg. The fact that Smaug had been as daring as to steal the egg from its dam had been proof enough of this. Smaug would not have his spawn raised by any other than himself. And he was a miserly and lonely sort, so off to claim Erebor he flew after spiriting away his prize. Once hatched, his offspring would also become his mate, were it female. And female it would become, if he had any say about the temperature. Treasures would be kept warm from his radiated heat, and thus the egg would be kept warm in the treasure's gleaming embrace. Any warmer, and the chick would hatch male. And Smaug would have none of that, thank you very much. He would not tolerate competition for HIS mountain. So he rid the mountain of the Dwarf pestilence promptly, delighting in the misery of the line of Durin as they fled. He coiled among the treasure, dumping his true prize next to the gleaming Arkenstone, three times smaller than the egg. Together the two rested, perfectly in the center of the circle he formed. Not a soul would enter the mountain on his vigilant watch, and less so would they be taking a single coin or stone.  
-  
The Battle of Five Armies had been brutal, of that there was no doubt, Bilbo had decided. Nursing his own various injuries, a very gracious one atop his forehead that still sent his head swimming if he moved too quickly, Bilbo was particularly worried about the fate of the Line of Durin. He wasn't allowed into their makeshift quarters - the Royal Tent, he'd deemed it. Bandages over his head blocking vision out of his right eye and muffling his hearing out of the corresponding ear, Bilbo's fingers smoothed worryingly in what had become a terrifying habit the last few days.  
What his fingers were worrying over, was another matter entirely. He glanced down at the particularly large bundle of cloth in his arms. His left hand was snuck between the folds and ran across the surprisingly rough surface in said habit. He stood before the Royal Tent's entrance, just off to the side, as others came and went. The burly Dwarven guards watched balefully - one watching him with a narrow stare. To be honest he wasn't sure if it was a Dwarrowdam or not, because of the particularly short beard. He'd never seen a female Dwarf before, so he'd be hard pressed to tell the difference.  
How on Middle Earth was he to get inside? He supposed he could use his ring and burglar his way in, but then he'd just as likely be thrown out by the healers who knew he wasn't allowed inside. After all, they were the ones who'd decreed it was for Thorin's health not to be disturbed by any unnecessary intrusions. Bilbo huffed at that. At least there was some comfort in that it wasn't solely him that was being kept out. He watched on as healers and guards came and went from the tent apace. Surely he'd be allowed just this once?  
Just as he was about to ask just that, he nearly shrieked at the large, heavy hand that landed on his shoulder.  
"Oi, laddy. What're ye doin', prowling about?" the gruff voice asked him sternly. Bilbo, having nearly wet himself, was practically shaking before he took a deep breath and answered his companion.  
"Dwalin. Good to see you, too, I suppose. I...I was hoping I might see Thorin and the lads." he confessed, looking back, his attempt thwarted by the bandages, as Dwalin had approached him on the right.  
"Ye know no one is allowed in yet." was the growl that was returned. Bilbo sighed.  
"Yes, yes, I know that. But it's dreadfully important!" he insisted. He couldn't see whether Dwalin had made a face at him or not, until the warrior had shimmied forward into his line of sight. He looked up at the bald Dwarf with a bit of wariness.  
"Ye have business, then? What be that there?" Dwalin confronted smoothly, withdrawing his hand and crossing his arms accusingly. Bilbo swallowed thickly, and if he clutched his burden a little tighter, well Dwalin didn't seem to care.  
"Th-this is... Um...Oh bother." Bilbo stuttered. Why was it so hard to speak all of a sudden?  
"Out with it, laddie." Dwalin growled, eyes narrowed. Bilbo nearly squeaked.  
"It's a gift!" he blurted.  
"F-for Thorin. S-since I gave away the Arkenstone, and haven't gotten it back." he confessed abruptly, eyes wide and fearful at this admission. How would Thorin's closest companion take this?  
To say he wasn't expecting the burst of raucous laughter was putting it lightly. Or the thump across his back that sent his head swimming, and a pulsing between his ears. Bother, that smarted!  
"Lad, it's a fool's errand, but yer more than welcome to try. Thorin ain't gonna take whatever ye've got. He may still be sick, but he be recovering enough to refuse what he ought." Dwalin rumbled heartily. Practically sputtering, Bilbo bowed his head, fingering his gift longingly. He desperately wanted to make amends with Thorin, if only for - No. No he wouldn't let those thoughts enter his fog-ridden head.  
"If you two are quite done making a racket, you can come in." came the growl which startled Bilbo to no end. It was more than unsettling, this particular Dwarf. Dain Ironfoot was no healer, but he held authority over everything that went on in that tent. He'd met Dain once before, when he'd been informed he was not to enter the tent on any circumstance. The encounter had been...Less than delightful.  
Dwalin gave a curt nod, his hand still resting on Bilbo's back a firm presence. Now it served to push him forward and nearly into the other Dwarf, Bilbo's heels digging into the dirt unceremoniously. Sputtering about he could walk just fine on his own, thank you, Bilbo straightened and followed behind Dain, who had turned promptly and retreated back into the Royal Tent.  
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Bilbo trailed after him only a few paces behind, trying to keep out of the way of the healers busying themselves throughout the canvas building. He dodged out of the way several times on the way to the other end. Dain seemed to pay them no mind as they avoided him, instead. Bilbo glanced back once to see if Dwalin was behind him, and sure enough the burly bruiser was right there, keeping apace.  
He'd turned back and nearly ran into Dain for it, coming to a halt with a gasp, the bundle in his arms shuffling as he nearly dropped his purchase. He looked up and over to find a series of beds - about five of them, although only four were occupied at the moment. Three of the occupants he knew, the fourth he didn't. He didn't bother himself with those thoughts for very long, for when his eyes looked to the form he sought, he was startled to find piercing blue eyes glaring at him menacingly.  
"You."  
The word carried so much weight to it, just a single word! The lump returned to Bilbo's throat, and he struggled to form words around it that he'd so elaborately planned just this morning. The words disappeared from memory entirely, and he was left with his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Oh dear. He should definitely say something.  
"I've got this for you." he spoke rather suddenly, arms shooting out with the bundle. The weight was rather heavy and his burden was beginning to take its toll on his muscles. When Thorin made no movement, nor did he look like he was about to speak, Bilbo's eyes wavered to the bundle and he withdrew it back to his chest.  
"Why have you come." Thorin demanded in a low growl, after a longer pause. Those eyes continued to glare holes into the back of Bilbo's skull. Bilbo didn't answer at first. Why had he come? To make peace? Or was it for - Oh no. Do NOT think of that, Bilbo Baggins! He shook his head a bit, probably making everyone in the room wonder what was going through his mind.  
"I..." _I came so I could say goodbye._  
"I wanted to apologize." he sighed quietly. He found his left hand fingering his burden once again. Dreadful habit he had formed, especially since he was, hopefully, giving it away presently. Without meeting the King's eyes, He set the cloth-wrapped burden on the foot of the infirmary bed. His eyes - eye, rather - glanced over to the other two beds, where Fili and Kili lay, with grievous injuries of their own. The fact Thorin was awake was impressive. Fili had his own head injury, it looked like, bandages wrapped completely around both eyes. Kili seemed to have a chest wound of sorts. One that was bled through, it appeared. If they hadn't started working on that before he left, he'd have to have a word with the healers on changing his bandages. He was not officially a healer, but his mother had fancied herself one, and had passed her knowledge on to her son.  
"And?" was his only response. Well that was awfully rude, he thought to himself with a huff.  
"And, I brought this for it." he said with a bit of snark, rolling his eyes. Now wasn't really a time to be giving an injured and rather angry king an attitude, but Bilbo couldn't turn back time, now could he?  
"And what would...This, be?" sneered Thorin. Bilbo looked up at him wryly.  
"If you'll give me a moment, I'll show you." he huffed, a touch impatiently. With his left hand already under the fold of cloth, he simply had to lift it to reveal the remarkably golden treasure that lay within. Hidden among the cloth had been, was, a massive gemstone the size of his head. Unhewn, rough to the touch, and a more pure golden color than any coin he'd ever come across. Surely it was a prize to the Dwarves of Erebor, for it had been next to the Arkenstone when he'd spirited both away from under Smaug's nose. Why else would a dragon covet such a treasure, if it hadn't been one to the Dwarves?  
"I'd hoped to return this to your people, seeing as it is a piece of your history as well." Bilbo explained softly. The growl that he heard was far from what he had expected to hear.  
"Get that thing away from me!" Thorin snarled viciously, his face screwed into a tight face. It had also become ruddy with color in his anger. A fit of coughing overcome him, and a healer was at his side within moments. Bilbo hadn't noticed it until then, due to the piles of furs draped over him, but the healer had drawn said furs back, revealing a mess of bandages swathed in blood. It seemed like it was all the healers could do to keep up with his injury. He visibly winced, his own injury throbbing in sympathy.  
But why was he so angry at him returning such a treasure?  
"That foul object is no piece of history, and you are more a betrayer than ever for bringing it to my feet!" Thorin roared. He swatted the healer away, sitting upright although it clearly pained him. What on earth was he so angry for? It was just a gemstone, albeit a large one!  
"Thorin, what on earth? It's just a stone!" he snapped back, hastily grabbing the stone and clutching it to his chest. The cloth remained on the bed, revealing the stone in it's full glory. One look around him showed that all eyes in the tent were on him, and every Dwarf was in a wary stance, including Dwalin, who had taken several steps away from him.  
"That is no stone, Burglar!" Dwalin snarled for his king, reaching for his axes. Bilbo shrunk back in fear. What had he brought into the tent, then? The stone suddenly was very warm in his grip, much too warm. Almost unbearable, but bear it he did, for he would not risk losing this precious item.  
"Really now! Then would someone kindly inform me what this not-stone might just be!" Bilbo snapped, rather done with all this nonsense. The hand on his shoulder did make him shriek this time.  
"Bilbo, my dear friend, let me have that, would you?" was the soft answer to his raher girlish scream. Thankfully on his left, he peered up at Gandalf suspiciously.  
"Gandalf, what on earth is going on?" he asked as he handed it over without hesitation. He could still trust him, he found. The wizard, one handed, took the stone effortlessly. The wizard seemed to ponder the stone for all too long, before sighing.  
"I'm afraid your suspicions are true, Thorin." Gandalf said in a confirming tone. Bilbo gave a groan.  
"Would someone kindly tell me what is going on?!" he snapped, hands on his hips. Gandalf raised a brow, but said nothing for a long moment.  
"Bilbo, you've brought Thorin, not a stone, no...But a dragon's egg." Gandalf explained slowly.  
"A...A what now?" He asked, not quite sure he'd heard right. But Gandalf repeated his words, and Bilbo stood there for a moment, blinking slowly.  
"An egg....A.. Dragon's egg." he replied firmly. Gandalf responded by handing the thing back to him. At first it was cool to the touch, but then it seemed to be brought back to life under his hands.  
"And one about to hatch, if the warmth is any indicator." Gandalf grumbled.  
"A-about to hatch? Oh... Oh my. Gandalf - Gandalf where are you going!" he sputtered after the wizard, who was decidedly leaving him behind.  
"Away, my dear boy. Away! Lest we be destroyed by evil." he answered cryptically. Bilbo openly gawked after him, but didn't have much time to consider this development as the egg had begun to shake in his arms.  
"Oh no - oh oh no you dont!" he huffed, clutching it tight, although what he hoped to achieve by doing so he didn't know.  
"Get out, Thief. Betrayer. You have not been forgiven." Thorin growled lowly, eyes closed. Bilbo looked at him with open hurt. He didn't get long to sit in said hurt before Dwalin and Dain were both upon him, each a hand on his shoulders.  
"W-wait..." croaked a hoarse voice as the two had begun to forcefully lead him out of the tent. The two warriors hesitated, looking to Thorin. The King simply growled, saying nothing.  
"B-bilbo..." He shook the heavy hands off his shoulders and hurried to the bedside. He deposited the stone - egg - he corrected, on the small table next to the bed. The thing was still shaking, and Bilbo was momentarily concerned for it shaking itself right off the table, but the voice that croaked his name again made him forget the egg entirely.  
"I'm here, Fili." He whispered thickly, the lump returning to his throat as he grabbed at the prince's closest hand. He knew the prince could not see him, so the touch would be important. He resisted the urge to tuck the golden hair that was in a mess in front of the bandages behind the Dwarf's ears. Honestly, Bilbo, keep it under control.  
"Don't leave..." Fili pleaded quietly, squeezing his hand - a mite too hard. He couldn't blame Fili for it though. This time, he gave into his urges and smoothed the hair back, away from the coarse wool bandages.  
"I have to. You know that." Bilbo responded, his voice even quieter than the prince's hoarse whispers. It was breaking his heart, but he knew it had to be done. Thorin did not easily forgive, it seemed, so go he must. Back to the Shire.  
"N-no...Please..." the prince whispered, his voice straining. Bilbo could see the wet blotches that signified that Fili was crying beneath those bandages.  
"Oh Fili, please don't cry. I...We'll see each other again." Don't lie to him. Don't give him false hopes, Bilbo. Yet give him false hopes he did.  
"You can come to the Shire one day, or maybe... Maybe one day your uncle will lift the banishment." he whispered softly, knowing Thorin couldn't hear them. And thank goodness for that, for Thorin would have put those hopes right to bed.  
"Maybe." Fili whispered back. But they both knew that wouldn't happen. But they wouldn't speak of it.  
"I...I've got to go. You heal up, and take care not to get into too much trouble with Kili, you hear?" Bilbo tried to sound stern, but his voice was breaking as tears threatened to verge the cusp of his eyes. Not daring withdraw his hands to wipe them away, he let them fall to the bed's sheets.  
"You promise we'll see each other again?" Fili sobbed, wrenching Bilbo's heart.  
"I..." I can't.  
"I promise."  
He hastily took his hands back before he did something foolish and was entirely unrespectable and improper. He reached out for the egg, the warmth a welcome comfort. He strode back to the two waiting Dwarves, and this time he scurried out of their reaching hands with a quick "I'm fine, thank you!".  
They exited the tent promptly. And left Bilbo's heart to die there.  
-  
He had a rucksack on, heavy with food and travelling essentials. The Dwarves had not offered him a single aid in his journey back home. Rude.  
The Elves and Men however, were all too eager to assist him. Currently he stood before Thranduil, Egg nestled under one arm. It's warmth was a comfortable and steady presence. If he felt like it pulsed every now and again, well, Bilbo just told himself that was silly.  
It did however, shake. Persistently. And that was both rather annoying, and concerning. Thranduil was looking at him curiously, or rather, the egg.  
"Interesting. Quite interesting. I had not thought there to be any female dragons left in the north." Thranduil said calmly. Bilbo raised a brow at that. So they'd nearly been wiped out? Curious then that Smaug had an egg at all, here in the east.  
"Regardless. There is something to be done about the presence of a young dragon, Master Baggins. Few people know about them, but you are in luck that I am one of them." Thranduil intoned, striding towards him in that awfully graceful way. A hand escaped the folds of his robes, hovering for a moment as if unsure. Bilbo, sensing the intent, brought the egg forth and let Thrandruil touch it.  
"Dragons are not inherently evil, Master Baggins, this is a little known fact. Nor are they born with their lust for gold and death. They are raised that way by their kin. The first dragons were corrupted, beginning the chain of misery and torment that has become of the world in their presence. Who corrupted them, it is unsure. Whether by the magic of wizards, the greed of men, or the evil of Sauron, we do not know." Thranduil explained coolly. His hand laid gently on the egg, tracing the not-quite sharp edges.  
"So...It will not be a terror, is what you are saying?" Bilbo asked rather bluntly, his mind dull from his wound. Thranduil raised a brow at him curiously.  
"I am saying, that it must be raised away from such things, if it is to live at all." he responded, and withdrew his hand. Bilbo began to sputter at that.  
"If it is to live at all? Whatever do you mean! Surely it will live!" Bilbo scoffed. Thranduil gave an - elegant - sigh.  
"Do you think that the Dwarves here will allow another dragon within their midst? The Men? Or myself, for that matter?" he asked without pause. Bilbo gaped at him, astonished.  
"Why I'm afraid you must! This creature has done absolutely nothing to you! It doesn't deserve to die for the sins of its father!" he shrilled, apalled. He clutched the egg tight to his chest as if Thranduil would dare take it away from him.  
Thranduil gave a soft chuckle.  
"Then I dare say you'll have to take it where none of us can get our hands on it, Master Baggins." Thranduil warned, and was that a threat? Bilbo huffed indignantly.  
"I suppose I shall! Bother on all of you..." he grumbled, his emotions running high. He'd about had it with meddling wizards for a lifetime and everyone else, too! Perhaps returning to the Shire would do him good after all. Certainly it seemed like the only option for his burden, which he promptly tucked back under the crook of his arm.  
"Be wary, Master Baggins. That creature should know nothing of greed, wizards or evil, lest it twist into something terrible like its sire." Thranduil warned darkly, his eyes narrow. Bilbo had the proper sense to feel worried for it.  
"Alright, alright. I suppose I'll have to take it away then." he murmured, fingering the egg with some concern. The warmth seemed to grow even hotter, and it was getting past unbearable. He hissed a little at the unwelcome change, withdrawing his fingers, and grateful for the layers of cloth that were his sleeves, that stood between the egg and his skin.  
"You must leave with haste. There is a pony waiting outside for you, laden with supplies my elves have put together for you." Thranduil noted dully, and with a wave of his hand, Bilbo knew he'd been dismissed. Sighing, not wanting to argue, he turned, adjusting his rucksack, and left the tent. As he'd been told, there was a pony awaiting him, an Elf with flaming red hair at the pony's reigns. He vaguely recognized her.  
"You were one of the ones to capture us." he noted dismissively, patting the painted pony on the neck gently. She simply gave a small nod, a smile playing on her lips. She didn't look to be giving her name any time soon, so Bilbo gave a sigh and mounted the pony without her assistance, after depositing the egg into an empty pouch that he suspected was meant for it all along. The maneuver left him woozy and he took several deep breaths in order to recover. Oh his healer was going to be very upset that he had left and not returned! But it couldn't be helped.  
"You'll be escorted some of the way, Master Hobbit. Your friend has seen to that." the she-elf said suddenly, before disappearing just as suddenly, leaving him wondering just who she was talking about. His question wasn't left wondering for long, as the great hulking Man came striding up to him.  
"Beorn. Of course." Bilbo chuckled, smiling. The skin-changer strolled towards him, though not without limping, Bilbo noted. Hopefully he'd been treated by a healer already. If not, Bilbo would see to it himself before he even thought of them departing.  
"Bunny. You survived, and now carry a great burden with you." the behemoth of a man rumbled, his glower not entirely pitying or angry. Bilbo supposed that was just his face. He nodded, still having to strain his neck to look up at him, even astride a pony.  
"A burden indeed, at least everyone else seems to think so. Honestly, what is all the fuss about a tiny dragon?" Bilbo grumbled, looking to the side and down at the leather sack that the egg, shaking, was nestled in. He could feel the heat radiating from it through the leather on his bared calf. It was just reaching unpleasant, but nothing he couldn't tolerate. Better than when it had been directly touching his skin!  
Beorn only gave a low hum in response, petting his pony delicately. She whinnied, flicking her tail at the attention.  
"Come. We shall leave in haste. All the better, before your pet hatches." Beorn murmured. Bilbo gave a snort. Pet indeed! A dragon could hardly be called a pet! But he didn't argue with him.  
"Have you had that looked at?" he asked instead, gesturing to the leg on which Beorn was favoring. Bilbo would have determined for himself, but Beorn was in long pants and they hid anything that may be underneath. Beorn seemed a little surprised at his concern, but laughed heartily, reaching a hand over to tousle Bilbo's hair, to which Bilbo sputtered a few words about indecency.  
"I have. And I will heal." he responded, before striding off at a ground-eating pace. Bilbo grumbled about the propriety of it all before spurring his pony after him. The Pony - did she have a name? He must give her one, then, since the red haired she-elf hadn't bothered to give either her name or the pony's - trotted after the man with ease, as if she knew she was to follow him.  
The stench of blood, death and decay in the air was disturbing. But Bilbo, in the short period of days after the battle, had grown far too accustomed to it. Not that he planned on having the smell around for much longer! No indeed.  
The path Beorn took was relatively clear of blood-sodden mud. And completely clear of bodies. The armies, having nothing to do after the battle, had taken to clearing up the dead - as they rightly should. Mass graves for those who were not to be buried elsewhere had been dug, or so Bilbo thought from the looks of the pits at the bases of the hillocks, and the white shapes being moved into them.  
It was all dreadfully morbid, and he wanted to be clear of it. As they did clear of the tents, however, Bilbo came to the grim realization that he hadn't made any goodbyes except to Fili. His face fell when he realized that Beorn wouldn't allow for him to turn back now, not with how determinedly he was walking ahead of him.  
He bowed his head, dropping the reigns to his lap. How had he forgotten to say goodbye? Would the company forgive him for it, for everything he'd done? He imagined some of them had already forgiven him for his trespasses and betrayal, but...But leaving without a word? That was a particularly un-Hobbity thing to do.  
There was nothing for it, though. Beorn was leading him and would not stop anytime soon. It was still midday, and they had much ground to cover before the day was done. And if Bilbo was sullen during the ride and when they finally stopped to make camp, well Beorn didn't say anything.  
-  
It had been several days of travel before anything of note happened. The egg was a constant comfort to Bilbo, the heat not only keeping him warm but telling him that it was still alive. Every now and then it would shake violently in its pouch.  
Every evening, he took the egg out of the pouch and clutched it to his chest while he lay in his bedroll. Beorn lay across from him, on the other side of the dwindling fire. The skin-changer was likely fast asleep, while Bilbo lay gazing into the dying flames. He sighed.  
The egg began one of its shaking fits, and he groaned. Perfect. They usually lasted at least an hour, and now he would be kept up because of it. He had only just shoved it away and halfway in between him and the fire when he noticed something.  
There was a crack on the otherwise perfect surface.  
His eyes widened into saucers, and he lay there sucking in air like a land-bound fish before he managed to stutter out;  
"B-Beorn!"  
The man startled, his eyes opening and looking to him with worry.  
"What is it, Bunny?" There was that nickname again. Bilbo really wished he wouldn't use it. But right now wasn't the time to be discussing his preferred name. Bilbo propped himself up on one elbow, and used the other hand to point at the egg.  
Apparently this needed no explanation.  
"About time." the man grumbled, before closing his eyes.  
"B-b-but! Beorn!" he sputtered, flabbergasted. How could he go back to sleep when there was a dragon hatching in the middle of their camp?! Was he supposed to help it, like mother hens sometimes help their chicks? The egg was awfully hard, maybe the baby couldn't get out on its own!  
Deciding to try, Bilbo sat upright - his head spun for a moment, telling him that yes, he had sat up too quickly - and he snatched the egg into his lap, crack facing up at him. Something told him he shouldn't use his fist, that he'd wind up with a nasty bruise for his troubles, so instead he unsheathed Sting. Not that he intended to use the pointy end, no no.  
Holding the hilt's butt to the crack, he lifted it, aiming carefully, and brought it down with a firm tap.  
And nothing happened.  
Wait.  
Was that a tapping answering him? He strained to listen - but ah! There it was! Yes, there was a fierce tapping echoing out of the egg. With a determination of his own, he brought the hilt down again, this time with a smidgen more force. The crack widened by just a margin, so yes, that was the right amount of power to use. He just had to be careful and listen, and watch, to make sure he didn't smack the hilt into the baby's face when it finally popped out.  
He couldn't honestly say how long he sat there, pounding away at the crack, it chipping away flakes of the golden shell bit by tiny bit. But the sound of the hilt hitting the shell changed, so faltered. And with good reason - a prompt moment later a hole formed, a sharp brown spike jutting out of it. The hole was hardly bigger round than a coin, but it seemed to be sufficient, because the babe within poked its muzzle out - a rust color fading to gold, from the looks of it - and the nostrils flared widely, taking in big gulps of air.  
Unsure of what to do, he set Sting to the side, hands on either side of the egg - which he just now noticed was lacking its usual bright heat. The dragon's mouth definitely looked remniscent of Smaug's, but had a peculiarly jutting chin. Perhaps a trait from its mother. The mouth curved slightly upwards like Smaug's had, though.  
The snout withdrew suddenly, and the egg began to shake violently. Startled, Bilbo let out a sound of surprise.  
If that was a sound of surprise, then what he let out next was positively a scream as the egg burst into two halves, flying apart and rather hurting his hands in the impact. The force of it made him fall backwards, so when he propped himself up onto his elbows to look at his lap, he was not surprised to see the young dragon curled in it. After all, the egg had been there moments ago, and the shell had just split in two.  
He was not prepared for the onslaught of a voice in his head, making his eyes snap shut, speaking in a tongue he did not know. It made him wince with the power behind those words. Mixed in with all of them was one word over and over, repeated until Bilbo could finally make sense of it. And then the voice stopped on that one word.  
_Ilaurenda. Ilaurenda. Ilaurenda._  
"Alright now that is enough!" He snapped loudly, eyes - eye - shooting open. The dragon had uncurled in his lap, and was staring at him with large emerald colored eyes. Its eyes looked to be searching his soul, by the way it was staring at him.  
_Ilaurenda._  
The voice said, softer this time. And Bilbo would bet his buttons that the voice had come from the dragon hatchling, for before the thing had hatched, there had been no voice. But why he could hear the voice in his head was entirely a different matter. Smaug had spoken, true enough, but not through the mind, and not in that tongue. The word the dragon repeated was foreign to Bilbo, although he was sure he would be able to pronounce it after some fumbling.  
The dragon was still staring at him, unblinkingly. He stared back cautiously, losing himself in those green pools. It was all he could manage to tear his eyes away and observe the dragon in full. It was... To say the least, not what he was expecting. To be frank, he had been expecting a miniature Smaug. All teeth and claws and hard scales.  
This creature was the opposite. Oh it had teeth and claws - the teeth he saw for a brief moment as it opened its mouth and yawned widely, a forked tongue flicking between them. The claws were tiny, and the beast had not a single scale. Instead it seemed to be covered head to toe in a supple, soft leathery hide. And its wings. There wasn't a scrap of webbing between the long digits. Nor was there between the curling spikes along the spines.  
_Ilaurenda. Ilaurenda. Ilaurenda._  
Chorused the voice, again, more softly than it initially had.  
"Alright, now is that what I'm supposed to call you?" he quipped, raising a brow. He was surprised to find the motion mimicked, albeit in an offhand way - the little brow quirked up and the other furrowed down. He managed a laugh at that.  
"Well then, Ill...Illor... Oh bugger it. Ilurendah?" he attempted feebly. The creature gave a snort at his attempt.  
_Ilaurenda._  
"Il...aur...en..da?" He tried again, more slowly this time. The hatchling's eyes widened and the little head - far too large on that weedy little neck - bobbed up and down eagerly.  
"Ilaurenda. I see." he said, with more assurance. He had absolutely no clue what the name meant, but it was the dragon's, and he wasn't about to go calling it anything else. Hm. Oh dear. What gender was it, anyways? He didn't think he could just lift up the tail... Oh no that'd be horribly improper. Besides - there might not be anything under there!  
Oh bother. If only Thranduil had told him just a bit more about dragons...  
"Well, I'm Bilbo. Bilbo. Biiiil-boooh." he pronounced patiently. He was certain the little thing could speak, but when it would be able to do so, he had no clue. The creature cocked its head at him, little ears - oh! Ears, too! How odd. Smaug hadn't had those, so those were definitely from the mother - quirking.  
"b...Buuuuu....Buuuullbooo." was his response. He shook his head, tutting.  
"No no, like this. Bil-boh. Bil-boh." he repeated, grunting as he sat upright. His back was beginning to ache from laying back like that.  
"Biil....Boh?" The dragon paused, looking for confirmation, which it received.  
"Bilbo! Bilbo! Bilbo!" it chanted proudly, eyes closed in contentment as it twirled around in his lap. It settled down and curled into a ball, nestled comfortably between his knees. It opened one eye after a moment, staring up at him, almost expectantly. He gave a short huff, not sure what it was the creature wanted. He looked up to Beorn, for surely the man hadn't fallen back asleep after all this racket? But surely enough the man was snoring lightly, as if he had no cares in the world.  
The dragon suddenly was not in his lap any more. Bilbo gave a startled gasp as the golden reptile toddled over to Beorn's leg.  
"What - no! No no no, and again no!" he hissed, scrambling to his feet. He didn't get two steps before the voice assaulted his mind violently. There was no 'Ilaurenda' this time, so he could make no sense of what the voice wanted. But clearly the dragon was not pleased with Bilbo's attempt at interferance.  
Dragon clambered onto Beorn's injured leg - Bilbo gave a wince as Beorn woke with a grunt. The hulking man propped himself up on his elbows, glowering down at the offending creature.  
The dragon paid him no mind, pacing on top of his leg, scratching at the cloth lightly. And if Bilbo's eyes weren't wide, well they became as wide as his dinner plates back at home, for light - green light - had begun to flow from the dragon's claws.  
"Beorn!" Bilbo cried out, afraid for his companion. Perhaps Thranduil was wrong about dragons, and this one was set on killing his friend if only to hoard Bilbo to itself. He dared not approach, the dragon's voice a potent threat.  
The man seemed wary to do anything about the dragon, either. The light began to form tendrils, curling like roots around Beorn's injured leg. Bilbo panic increased when the green began to bleed red from the tips, hurriedly rushing back towards the epicenter - the dragon. It was draining Beorn's life! It must be! Bilbo could not stand idly by any longer - he ducked down and grabbed sting, and with a cry he ran forward - only to be tripped by Beorn' own outreached hand under his foot.  
Sprawled on the ground, Bilbo spat out dirt unceremoniously. Why on earth? What was Beorn thinking! He had to save him!  
"Look, Bunny." came the rumble from above his head. Bilbo did look - to the dragon who was happily seated next to Beorn's leg. Beorn was now sitting up, and the trouser leg had been pulled up, bandages hastily removed, to reveal - Nothing.  
Barely even a pink scar where the blade had rent his flesh. It... It'd healed Beorn's leg?  
"B-but...How is this possible?" he sputtered, slowly rising to his feet. Beorn shuffled his pants leg back down, bandages in fist.  
"I know little about dragons, Bunny. But I do know they have Powers. Different from magic." he said shortly. Bilbo took a moment to think this over.  
"And... This one's power is... Healing, then?" he surmised. Beorn gave a gruff nod, barely visible in the dying coal's light.  
Bilbo wondered for a moment what Smaug's power had been. He never had anything other than his fire, which he was renowned for, so perhaps his power lay in that. This one - Ilaurenda, he reminded himself - appeared to be able to heal. And was not trying to kill them. Rather the opposite, it seemed.  
The dragon sauntered over to Bilbo's feet - despite the fact Bilbo still had Sting held out at the ready. Surely a dragon knew a blade, even from hatching? Should it not be more careful? But no, it seemed to trust him completely, downright nuzzling his furry feet.  
He dropped the blade to the side carefully at that. This thing was harmless - at least to them. Sighing, he sheathed Sting, and scooped up the dragon chick. About the size and heft of a large cat, the dragon was easy to carry back to his mussed up bedroll. He thumped down, and settled himself back into the fabrics, laying the dragon on his chest. The beast was all too happy to curl itself into a pile there. But the heft was a welcome distraction from Bilbo's thoughts - thoughts that had, before the egg started hatching, been focused on Fili.  
No, it was a welcome distraction indeed. His thoughts were entirely improper. If any Hobbit back in the Shire knew what thoughts had crossed his mind... Why it'd be the scandal of the decade, he was sure of it.  
For Prince Fili was not just a Prince to Bilbo - no, he was much more than that.  
He was his love.  
And it simply wasn't right for two men to go gallavanting off together. Not right at all. So the fact Bilbo had the thoughts at all was quite disturbing to his respectability and propriety. Not that Fili returned the feelings - Bilbo made sure of that. Never voicing his interests, never giving a hint to his disrespectable thoughts. No, the Prince would go off and marry a nice Dwarrowdam and have a few Dwarflings. That was his fate. Not... Not to have it off with a Grocer who wasn't supposed to be with another male in the first place.  
Lobelia would tan his hide if she knew.  
No, best to ignore the thoughts entirely.  
Yes...  
Ignore them.  
And with that in his fog-ridden head, Bilbo managed to doze off into a fitful sleep.


	2. Soul-Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have added some tags since I posted this work. Some of them you might want to take a look at, to see if this fic is still your cup of tea. 
> 
> With that in mind, please enjoy this chapter. :)

Bilbo had been having a somewhat pleasant dream - when something caused him to stir awake. He wasn't quite sure what the sensation was that made him open his eyes that morning, but when he did open them, he snapped them shut with a groan. It wasn't even dawn yet!  
"It's you." he grumbled, now knowing the source to his sleep disturbance.  
Upon his chest sat a cat-sized dragon.  
Staring at him.  
Just. Staring at him.  
"Awake?" a voice asked. Bilbo, eyes shut, took several long moments to register that he had been asked a question.  
"Yes, I am awake." he replied, thinking nothing of it.  
His eyes shot open and he sat up, dumping the creature in a tumble onto his lap.  
"Did you just speak?" he demanded, flabbergasted, eyes wide. On its back, it craned its neck to stare at him with its own wide eyes before nodding.  
"You can speak. How did you learn to do that?" he pondered, running a hand through the hair on his left temple - as the right was still bandaged. For a brief moment he wondered how long he would have to keep his head wrapped up.  
"Thoughts. Read when sleep." came the simple reply. The dragon's mouth was surprisingly adept at forming westron words. The flash of teeth did not escape Bilbo, and he was reminded that this was still a dragon. He watched, amused for a brief moment, as the youngster wiggled the tongue around its teeth.  
"So you read my thoughts while I was asleep, is what you are saying?" he asked, seeking confirmation.The hatchling nodded vigorously, tongue poking out of its maw. Bilbo gave a sigh.  
"Alright then. Care to tell me whether you're a boy or a girl? I'm growing rather tired of calling you 'it'." he asked promptly. The creature's face skewed for a moment, and he felt something in his mind. A presence brushing against his thoughts, seeking information.  
"Boy, or girl?" it asked, the presence still there in his mind. He nodded slowly, and gathered a mental image of a male hobbit versus a female hobbit, comparing the two. Noting how the male was more muscular, if a little rotund around the belly in this case, some facial hair, and wore particular clothing. The female wore a dress, was leaner, had the proper feminine...parts...As well as longer hair upon her head, and a softer visage. He also noted that the male was the one who generally protected the family, while the female cared for the family. With one last thought, he noted that the female was the one who bore children.  
He felt the presence leave his mind after he had finished his explanation. He looked down at the creature - Ilaurenda - who appeared deep in thought. He briefly looked down at the dragon's... well the dragon's nethers, and could find no sign of a gender. He sighed, of course there wasn't a physical difference.  
"I...Girl?" it - she? replied after several long moments. He regarded her with a raised brow.  
"One day you can have babies, then?" he asked, prepared to scoff if the answer was no. The dragon nodded, abnormally long tail flicking at his toes. It certainly reminded him of Smaug's - just as long and whip-like as its - her - sire's had been. The tip even had a fleshy spade adorning it.  
"Alright then. You're a girl. Good to know. Is there anything else I should know, besides your gender and name?" he asked politely. She was, in a way, his guest. He ought to know if there was anything in particular about her. She stared at him with those large eyes. The pupils weren't round, not even slit like a cat's. They were oddly shaped, much like Smaug's had been, but they weren't the same.  
"Hungry!" she peeped brightly. Bilbo gave a short laugh.  
"Right, of course you are. Wait just a moment, little one." he chuckled, gently guiding her off of his lap. He didn't really know what baby dragons ate, but he'd gather they could eat meat. Beorn wasn't fond of the fact Bilbo had it in his pack, but he had salted beef, pork, and even a little rabbit stored inside.  
He stood, walking over to his pony, who he had named Myrtle, after his first pony on his adventure, and rustled through the pack, seeking the cloth wrap that held the salted meats. As he grabbed some, he heard a profound squeak that outright startled him. He turned around and Ilaurenda was gone from their meager camp.  
"Ilaurenda? Ilaurenda!" he called out hurriedly, meats clutched tightly in his hand. He scurried around the camp, the pre-dawn light guiding his eyes. He heard some shuffling, and a bush moved. Another loud squeak. He rushed over to the moving bush, shoving the upper leaves aside to find that he had indeed found Ilaurenda.  
And she was currently swallowing a mouse whole. He could only see the tail as it was already down her throat. A quiet slurp, and the tail disappeared. He glanced, and found that her belly was quite round, now. She looked up at him with happy eyes.  
"Not hungry!" she chirped. She wobbled over to his feet, her belly grazing the ground because her legs were too short for her body. She hooked her little claws onto his trousers, and swiftly scrabbled up, perching herself on his shoulder.  
A pathetic whimper escaped his meekly opened mouth.  
"I... I suppose I don't have to worry about feeding you, then." he stuttered, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. At least there wasn't any blood to clean up, either on the ground or on her. She had already begun to lick at her lips, cleaning up the barest spots that had been there.  
Leaving the bush, he hurried back to camp, where the fire was totally dead. Not even a coal was left stirring. Beorn had woken, and was clearing up his and Bilbo's bedrolls. There wasn't much else to do to clean up, at least. Regardless, he offered to take his bedroll from Beorn, who gave it up without so much as a grunt.  
In a matter of moments, Bilbo was seated on his pony, and they were off again. For the past two days they had been in Mirkwood. Nothing dared approach them with Beorn here, thank goodness. No spiders had attacked them, and Beorn had assured Bilbo that none would.  
The day passed by quickly, with Ilaurenda pestering him constantly. He was patient however, and answered all her questions. Her vocabulary was broadening already, but despite this her sentences were simple as ever. He didn't expect much in that regard - in one sense she was a newborn. In the other, she was an ancient being. He was satisfied she was happy to learn.  
He just wished he knew more about her, but she didn't seem interested in divulging anything. Any time he asked her a question, she gave a dodgy answer, as if she herself didn't know. Which was entirely possible, now that he thought about it.  
It was all too soon that the days passed, and they found themselves safely in Beorn's lands. Ilaurenda was speaking lightly more intelligently, filling her sentences up with more words. Beorn had been unusually quiet. Perhaps he didn't like Ilaurenda's presence.  
"You're welcome to stay as long as you wish, Bunny." the great man finally spoke, after days of one-word responses or queries. Bilbo pondered the offer, but sighed after doing so.  
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline alltogether, Beorn." He began, staring off into the wilds, towards the Misty Mountains.  
"I need to go home." he finished lamely. Beorn seemed to accept this answer, however, and didn't push. He did, however, insist that Bilbo replenish his stores before leaving. He heaped him up with bread, a few jars of honey and jam, fruits and vegetables, cheeses, and special for Ilaurenda, eggs. Since Beorn had explained to Ilaurenda when they entered his lands that the animals there were not to be hunted, for they thought like herself. She seemed to understand, but complained of a hungry belly. She nibbled on the salted meat to satisfy her hunger, but clearly did not like the arrangement.  
When she discovered cooked eggs, she was elated. Especially when some cheese was sprinkled in and some of the salted meat diced and tossed in as well. Bilbo had to restrain himself from eating the same meal - the eggs were for her, and her alone. Beorn had stressed that fact. Ilaurenda was a predator, she couldn't live without animal protein. Bilbo, however, was a Hobbit, and could.  
Bilbo kept his promise during their travels through Beorn's land, and didn't touch a single egg.  
Once they had left the Skin-changers land, the few remaining eggs were fair game, he'd decided. He split the scrambled eggs with Ilaurenda one morning, making himself a hearty meal of toasted bread slathered in jam, a generous slice of cheddar, one of the sweet soft pears that Beorn had given him, and a heaping pile of the meat-and-cheese scrambled eggs.  
Ilaurenda was satisfied with just eggs, at first. Until she stole a lick of jam off of Bilbo's toast. She was then enthralled with the stuff and insisted she have a slice of toast herself.  
He was more than happy to indulge her. He was happy to have someone who enjoyed his tastes at his side. In the two weeks that had passed since her hatching, she had already gained several pounds, and where she had only been the size of a cat before, she now was bordering on the size of a newborn lamb.  
Webbing had begun to fill inbetween the spines along her back, and between the long digits of her wings. On the tops of her wings, the barest of a ruddy golden-brown was seen in the crease between the fingers. Quite surprisingly, the underside was a stark contrast of a deep rusty-brown. The webbing between the flexible, emotive spines on her back and tail were the same rusty brown. This brown was significantly darker than the rust color on her snout and tail.  
He suspected one day she would have a great many horns, or at least a nice pair on the top of her head, by the two bumps above her ears. His imagination supplied a great many varieties of horns she could one day possess. He imagined they would be the same earthy brown as the sharp spike on her nose.  
No scales had formed yet, not even the belly scales that were vital to protecting a dragon's vulnerable underside. But ridges were forming on her little face, where he suspected scales would eventually form.  
Quite lost in his ponderings most of the days, he didn't realize they had come up on the Misty Mountains. He promised to be more vigilant, and checked Sting often to see if it was glowing.  
On the few occasions it was, they ducked quickly into the nearest alcove they could find that would fit a pony inside. Not keen on meeting goblins again, he watched the floors of the caves with a critical eye. He tried to explain to Ilaurenda what a goblin was, and why they had to avoid them. She surprised him by saying she knew what they, and orcs, were.  
She'd apparently discovered his memories of the Battle of Five Armies, and hadn't been pleased. She had a profound hatred of the creatures since the discovery, but had been quiet about it. She said there was nothing she could do if there was no goblins or orcs around to fight. And even then, she knew she was too weak to fight them.  
But what she said next almost frightened Bilbo. Not only because of what she was saying, but because she said it with such clarity and sincerity.  
"Some day they will burn. And I will be the one burning them." she had said, her eyes narrowed as she stared at their campfire. Unsure of how to react, Bilbo just stroked her neck calmingly. The drake seemed unaffected by his touch, instead she hissed at the fire with such conviction, Bilbo worried for her.  
They left early the next morning, Bilbo was desperate to be out of the Misty Mountains. He hoped to find Rivendell, and seek shelter there for a time. Mainly to replenish his stores, which were low once again. They had little in the way of feed for poor Myrtle, who was neighing weakly once in a while. Bilbo had rationed his vegetables out carefully, and saved them for her, but they were running low.  
He had no clue how to find the Hidden Valley from this side of the Mountains.  
So to say he was startled by the Elven party wandering just hundreds of feet away, was an understatement.  
"Here!" He called out, waving a hand wildly. The other remained tight on Myrtle's reigns. He had taken to walking with her, rather than riding her. Less energy expended on her part, so less to feed her. He could go hungry - he wouldn't force her to. Ilaurenda peeped at him in surprise from her place on top of Myrtle, her green eyes wide in alarm. Her head swiveled and oriented on the hunting party quickly enough when she noticed they weren't in danger.  
Bless her heart, she started calling out to them too.  
The Elves noticed them, and hailed them, telling them to remain where they were. Bilbo was happy to oblige.  
The Elves reached them in short order, and Bilbo was pleasantly surprised to find lord Elrond amongst them.  
"Hail, Master Baggins. What brings you to the Misty Mountains?" he called as he approached, dismounted from his horse as he walked up to the Hobbit. Bilbo gave a generous bow, one he was sure Elrond would say wasn't necessary, but he did it nonetheless.  
"Hail, Lord Elrond. It is a pleasure to see you again. I am passing through, and hoped to be welcome in Rivendell once more, as my supplies are almost gone, and I have many questions." Bilbo explained plainly. He would be honest, where last time Thorin had not been.  
"It would be our honor to welcome you back to Rivendell, and to escort you there. We may attempt to answer some of your questions along the way." Elrond replied, a smile gracing his face. Bilbo returned it.  
"We would first have yourself looked at by our companion, who is skilled in the arts of healing." Elrond offered generously. Bilbo, so used to his new sight, had forgotten he had left his head-wound bandaged. Before he could protest, a she-elf was approaching him, a bag in her hand.  
Bilbo sighed in defeat, gesturing for her to approach further. A smile on her fair features, she did so. A delicate hand brushed his hair aside, and began to unwind the bandage. Bilbo couldn't help the relieved sigh as the pressure came undone. His relief was short lived, when the she-elf conversed shortly with Elrond in Sindarin. He was able to catch a word that his mother had taught him, so many years ago, but the word was useless without the rest. "Wound" was the word he had heard. Without the context or the rest of the sentence, knowing it was pointless.  
Elrond didn't seem pleased as he approached.  
"My friend, how long has this gone unattended?" his tone was worriesome. Bilbo frowned in concentration.  
"Um...Three and a half weeks, I suppose. Why? Is it that bad?" he asked, concerned. He resisted the urge to reach a hand up and feel the injury. The she-elf's hands were there, cool upon the exposed skin. He could feel the injury now that it wasn't wrapped up - and it was very warm despite the cool air of the Mountains. For a moment he dreaded what happened. Infection? He had been feeling under the weather, and they often stopped because he was too tired to move on. Their progress had been slow because of it.  
"It's infected. What were you injured by?" the she-elf explained, then asked. Bilbo didn't need to think to answer. The memory was as vivid as the day it had happened.  
"An Orc's blade. I was fighting at Erebor, in the Battle of Five Armies. I was fine, up until this fellow came upon me. He wasn't overly large, but he was quick. Quicker than me. Before I could stick him in the neck with Sting, he grazed my head with his scimitar." he explained quietly. This time he couldn't resist the urge to touch the wound.  
A growl sounded.  
"They'll burn, Bilbo. I swear it." came the small sneer. The two elves startled and looked over at the source of the voice, Ilaurenda. Bilbo looked up at her, suddenly very worried for her safety. Thranduil had said even he would kill her, given the chance. Would these elves?  
"Don't hurt her!" he managed to squeak out, grasping at the she elf's wrist desperately. Lord Elrond regarded Ilaurenda coolly.  
"A dragon? Master baggins, you surprise me. Last time you were in my presence you were with a troop of dwarrows, now you have an ancient being with you? Curious indeed." Elrond chuckled. Chuckled! Bilbo gave an obvious sigh of relief.  
"You're not going to kill her?" Bilbo asked, worry plain on his face. Elrond shook his head. Bilbo forced himself to release the she-elf's wrist.  
"I'm to guess your questions center around her?" Elrond inquired smoothly. Bilbo simply nodded in response. The She-elf had gathered some herbs and was busy applying them to his wound. The cooling effect was instant. Must be Kingsfoil, the stuff was a miracle for Orc-blade injuries. Then she pulled out fresh bandages, and wound his head up again, blocking off his right eye once more.  
"Come along, then. You and your companion are most welcome in my home." Elrond chuckled fondly. Bilbo couldn't restrain his sigh of relief at the news. He didn't know what he'd do if they were to hurt Ilaurenda. He couldn't explain it, but he'd somehow bonded to the dragon.  
Not that Bilbo knew the extent of that bond. He would discover one day just how deep it rang and what the bond would do for them.  
Gripping Myrtle's reigns once more, he followed after Elrond and his companion. After joining with the rest of the Elves, it took surprisingly little time for them to return to Rivendell. Bilbo chalked it up to the fact the Elves knew these Mountains very well, and knew all the shortcuts back to their realm. They moved so quickly through the mountains, he hadn't even had time to gather his thoughts to ask a single question about Ilaurenda!  
He could feel the weariness of his bones seeping out as he walked under the archways, but he didn't have the heart to ask Elrond if he could rest right away.  
"Come, Master Baggins, you must be weary. I will show you to your room myself." Elrond offered hospitably. Bilbo's feet screamed in appreciation. Myrtle was led away with the other Elves' horses, and Ilaurenda scrambled up Bilbo's back to perch on his shoulder. She soon would be too large to do so! As it was, she was a heavy presence on him, and his back ached. He didn't make her walk, though. She seemed wary of their new surroundings.  
He trailed after Elrond eagerly, having to step quickly to keep up with the Elf's long strides. He was shown to a similar room to the one he had been given the last time he was here.  
"Bathe, rest, someone will fetch you for dinner. We will speak then." Elrond spoke graciously. Bilbo bowed his head as the Elf walked away.  
He all but ran to the bathroom, Ilaurenda giving a screech as she suddenly had to claw at his travel coat to hang on. He convinced her to get off, and he hurriedly stripped down as the warm water began to fill the stone tub. He hadn't had a proper bath in _weeks_ and by Yavanna he was going to scrub himself raw if he felt like it!  
When the tub filled, he turned the spigot to shut off the flow of water. Utterly naked, he sunk himself in up to his neck, mindful of the fact he had a bandage wrapped around his head. He gave a face at that. His hair would have to wait for another bath.  
Ilaurenda tiptoed to the edge of the tub, eyeing the water with a dark scrutiny. He gave a laugh.  
"Come now, it won't hurt you. I promise you won't drown." he chuckled, offering her a hand. She slunk one paw out, touching the water tentatively, before withdrawing it in haste.  
"Nope!" she chirped loudly, bounding away several feet, offering the water a hiss. Bilbo shook his head, smiling.  
He took to scrubbing with a will.  
-  
Several hours later, he was woken from sleep by an elf he didn't recognize. Ilaurenda regarded the elf with a grumble at first, but at the mention of food, perked up. Wrapped in a plush robe and a set of woollen trousers, Bilbo stretched before gathering Ilaurenda up in his arms and following the elf to the dining hall.  
Much like before, there was no meat to be had for him.  
The elves made a special effort for Ilaurenda, however, and she had a plate of cooked Rabbit that, Bilbo heard, the cook had not been happy to provide. Elrond however didn't seem to care about the presence of meat at his table, although some elves did seem to mind. Since Elrond didn't mention anything, they kept their mouths tightly shut on the matter.  
Elrond was more than happy to entertain any and all questions Bilbo could muster up. Bilbo had many about Ilaurenda, but he had yet to ask any, his manners guiding him to ask about Elrond's health, his home, and other courteous things first.  
"I appreciate your concerns, Master Baggins, but I think we both know that you are eager to ask of your friend." Elrond said with a smile. Bilbo had the propriety to blush.  
"Ah, well, hmm...I suppose my first question would be what to expect from raising a dragon? Although... Would you know?" Bilbo supposed, not sure now if Elrond would be able to answer any of his questions.  
"I cannot tell you that, Master Baggins, but I can tell you what dragons used to be like, in their prime, and what they will be like, should they return in force." he began slowly.  
"Dragons, as you may know, have Powers. Smaug's was his Dragonfire, it was stronger than any other Dragonfire, burning even stone. Normal Dragonfire is as strong as your average fire, but has a gel-like consistency, and sticks to anything it touches. Smaug's was ten times as powerful, burning everything it touched." Elrond explained thoroughly. This explained the devastation that Smaug was able to create, at least.  
"Might I ask, has she shown her Power?" Elrond wondered, his curiosity obvious. Ilaurenda, her mouth tearing at some meat, was too occupied to answer for herself.  
"She heals. To what extent her Power reaches, I'm not sure. She hasn't bothered to heal me." Bilbo murmured. Ilaurenda glanced at him, and offered a sheepish grin.  
"A magnificent gift. And her name? I'm sure she told you it upon her birth." Elrond chuckled. Bilbo startled.  
"How did - Oh bother it all. Yes, she did. She said her name is Ilaurenda. Although I haven't the foggiest what that means." Bilbo replied. He looked to Elrond, whose expression remained, for the most part, neutral.  
"A fitting Power for her name. It means 'The Golden Heart'." Elrond explained briefly. Bilbo watched Ilaurenda for several long moments. Had Smaug named her? If so, the name would explain a lot. Surely a child was the heart of a parent. But if she was given the name upon her creation, then her name could have a variety of meanings. Her heart could be pure. Anyone who she accepts must be pure of heart - a number of other reasons came to mind.  
"Dragons used to roam the world in droves, much like you Mortals do, and were not the evil beings they are today. Dragons, despite common myth, are not immortal. They are long-lived, but their life-span is about a thousand years, from what historians were able to record of the smallest drakes. The larger the dragon, the longer their life. Your friend here may live much longer than that due to her power. Healing ones body in whole every few centuries would prolong ones life indefinitely." Elrond went on happily. He seemed all too content talking about dragons. Bilbo was more than happy to let him.  
"But as the Mortals grew in number, the dragons were pressured. Not all Mortals were fond of the dragons, and some of the races killed dragons, believing it for their safety. The dragons developed their hatred of the Mortal races, and the evil grew in their hearts as more of their kin were slaughtered for no purpose. Some dragons, however, sought out the Mortals with peace and love, creating Soul Bonds with them. Their Souls bared, the dragons were exposed. Some Mortals were genuine in their love for the dragons, but others led the dragons into traps, and used them against their kin. With dragons on their side, the others fell by the hundreds until the dragons were forced to flee Middle Earth and to the North. The few Soul-Bonded dragons that remained...Were killed. Their Bonded died when they did, the Bond tying their fates together." Elrond spoke at length. The table had long since gone quiet. Ilaurenda was listening intently, hear ears engulfing every word.  
"These... Soul-Bonds." Bilbo began, but his words faltered. His thoughts were swarming. He felt Ilaurenda's presence in his mind, and his eyes fluttered closed at the contact. Her mind brushing against his was so soothing.  
"How do you know you have one?" he swallowed thickly. His mind was already ahead of Elrond's answer.  
"The dragon and Bonded's minds become one. Their hearts and emotions are completely in tune with one another and synched together. What one feels, the other feels. When one's heart beats, so does the other's." Elrond replied softly, his eyes searching Bilbo's.  
"Master Baggins...Is there something you should tell me?" the elf asked calmly. He did not push when Bilbo did not answer right away, when instead Bilbo's hand sought out the dragonet as his side. The gravity of the situation had just fallen on Bilbo, and it was heavy on his now pounding heart. As his fingers rested on the small dragon's chest, he could feel her heartbeat matched perfectly with his.  
"Wh...What else does the Bond do, Lord Elrond?" Bilbo asked, instead of answering. Elrond sighed, pondering for a moment.  
"The Bonded lives as long as the dragon lives. The dragon lives as long as the Bonded lives. Whoever has the longer lifespan, determines how long they live in terms of years. What befalls them, however, is another matter. The Bonded is able to use the dragon's Power and utilize their access to magic, as well." Elrond finished quietly. Bilbo could tell he had guessed Bilbo's fate.  
"Master Baggins. A Soul Bond is a serious matter, and one not chosen lightly. How did the dragon choose you so soon? She is barely out of the egg." Elrond whispered urgently. Bilbo could only shrug in response. He hadn't even known that Soul-Bonds existed, much less on why a dragon would pick someone with which to have one.  
"He saved me. That's why." Ilaurenda peeped quietly. Elrond looked to her with narrowed eyes.  
"You cannot undo a Soul-bond, little one. Not to discredit Master Baggins, but you may have chosen brashly." Elrond seemed to scold. The little dragon just puffed up her chest and stared him down.  
"He saved me." she insisted. Bilbo withdrew his hand from her shakily.  
"You didn't give Bilbo a choice on whether he wanted his soul bonded." Elrond urged back. She glared him down, and spat out the most vehement hiss Bilbo had heard from her yet. She sounded very much like her father, in that moment.  
"He's mine. And I'm his." she argued, her little tail whipping up a frenzy below the table.  
"All souls should be given a choice to be Bonded. This is why the dragon has the power to Bond the souls. Dragons are the keepers of souls on Middle Earth. It is their responsibility to tend to the world's souls. That the dragons failed in their task for the last two thousand years is why they haven't been able to breed more than one egg at a time." Elrond explained patiently. Ilaurenda had the decency to look ashamed.  
"That brings me to my next topic..." Elrond started, closing his eyes briefly.  
"A dragon does not necessarily have to have a male in order to reproduce. A female dragon may bear a clutch of eggs without the aid of a male. This is only if she is Bound to another soul, however. Dragons are unique in that they only need the joining of two souls, instead of two bodies, in order to bear young." Elrond revealed, much to Bilbo's surprise.  
"Wait a minute now. You're saying that she can have babies with me, essentially?" he sputtered out. Elrond gave a wave of his hand.  
"In a fashion, yes, but do not think of it so crudely. They will not be _your_ children, Master Baggins, but hers. She simply needs another soul in which to anchor hers for the process of creating the souls of her children. Only when it is two dragons are the souls intermixed to create new souls. In this way, she would create them solely from her own soul." Elrond clarified. Relief washed over Bilbo's body.  
"Oh thank the stars. I don't know how I would explain that to the shire! 'Oh, she's just had my babies! Oh no no, we didn't actually copulate, you see she just took part of my soul...' I imagine that would go over very well." Bilbo said sarcastically. Elrond chuckled humbly.  
"She will grow quickly. I wouldn't be surprised if she is capable of bearing size in twenty five years. They need not be fully grown to do so, or so the texts say." Elrond offered, smiling.  
"Does that mean she _will_ have eggs at that size?" Bilbo gawked. Elrond shook his head slowly.  
"I do not think so. The dragon must choose to anchor their soul, or to mix theirs with another dragon's. It is a trying experience for them, and takes much energy." he answered, and Bilbo could find no other questions rising in him.  
-  
The rest of the dinner had gone quietly and quickly, once Elrond had explained everything he knew about dragons. Bilbo and Ilaurenda had silently retreated to their rooms to retire. But Bilbo was no longer tired. He intended to speak with Ilaurenda, at length.  
Dropping the dragon on the bed, he sat at the foot, and shed himself of the heavy robe, leaving himself in the pair of trousers. The night was chill, but once he was under covers he would be toasty again. Tentatively, he unwound the bandages on his head. Elrond had said that Bonded ones shared their dragon's Power. That meant that Bilbo could use Ilaurenda's healing Power, didn't it? He would just have to see for himself.  
With all the bandages off in a pile on the floor, he lightly fingered the wound, still packed with Kingsfoil. Carefully, he removed the now pointless herbs. They had served their purpose to stave off infection, now all that was left was a gaping wound in the side of his head.  
He stood, and approached the sole, body-length mirror in the corner of the room.  
What looked back at him was startling.  
The right side of his head was sporting a wound that spanned the length of his hand. Surrounding it, the hair was cut at a close, jagged shave from the blade that had cut him. It would take months to regrow that hair...But what was more startling was his face.  
He looked like he was a tween, again. How? He looked at Ilaurenda in the reflection, for a moment. It had to be because of the Soul-Bond. Now that he was to live for a thousand years, he very well was a tween again at his age of fifty. His eyes shuddered closed. He was going to live for a thousand years.  
He shoved those thoughts aside. Right now, he needed more proof. He raised a hand to his red, angry wound. Tentatively, he focused his thoughts on the wound, and imagined it was healed.  
To his further surprise that evening, the green tendrils he'd seen that fateful night of Ilaurenda's hatching began to crawl out of his hand, intertwining amongst themselves, but overall crawling to smother his wound. As the 'roots' settled, the ends began to leech red like they had that night. His head began to feel leagues better as the red increased, until he felt no pain, no pressure, and all the green had faded into bloody red. Then the light went into the nothingness.  
When he brought his hand away, not only was the wound healed, but his hair had grown back. Was...Was his entire mop longer? Why indeed it was! It now all fell to his shoulders in coppery curls. He'd have to get it trimmed once he made it back to the shire.  
He heaved a sigh, and retreated to the bed, into the welcoming sheets and blankets. The night air had been true to its chilly nature whilst he stood there, and he was happy to be under the warm covers. Not yet ready for sleep, he patted his lap. Ilaurenda slunk into it warily.  
"So, little one." He began, unsure of how to approach her. He had so much on his mind. He was sure she was reading it all, but she was patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts and talk with her. His eyes slid closed, and his head fell back against the headboard.  
It boiled down to one question.  
"Why did you do it?" he finally asked. When she didn't answer right away, he reminded himself to be patient. He didn't feel like trying to read her mind, if that was even possible for him. He supposed it was, from what Elrond had said. He hadn't said the dragon could get into the Bonded's mind. He said their minds were One.  
"You saved me...Your...Your heart is pure." she stammered, clearly she was nervous. She never faltered over her words. This is the first time he'd heard her do so since she began talking.  
"You were...Sad." she whispered, nuzzling her head into one of his hands.  
"Your heart shouldn't be sad." she said with some finality. He could feel her sorrow while she spoke, and it made his heart ache. He moved his hand over the top of her head comfortingly.  
"And neither should yours." he sighed.  
-  
They left Rivendell the next afternoon, laden with enough supplies to get them to the Shire. Possibly more than enough, but Bilbo wouldn't complain. The Elves were generous, and had even offered him an escort. But he refused it. They would be fine. With the majority of Orcs having been at the Battle of Five Armies, most were still on that side of the Misty Mountains.  
They didn't have anything to fear, what with Sting on Bilbo's hip.  
Their journey to the Shire was uneventful, pardoning their side trip to the Troll's den to dig up the chest of gold. He hurried to dig it up, and Ilaurenda refused to go anywhere near the den. She said it reeked too much. Bilbo was of the same mind, but he wanted to get the chest before returning to the shire.  
Before long, the rolling green hills came into view from out of the Eastfarthing Woods. Since burdening Myrtle with the troll's gold, he had walked alongside her. He didn't want to overburden her. He couldn't help the spring in his step when he caught sight of the hills, despite the hour. It was evening - and he wasn't about to stop now. Ilaurenda could sleep on Myrtle, and currently was doing just that.  
He was filled with too much energy to stop. He was too close to -  
Home.  
His energy died. It wasn't truly home anymore, was it? Now that his heart was somewhere else, Bag End may be his physical home, but forever would his heart belong somewhere else. He glanced at the little gold and rust dragon in Myrtle's saddle.  
At least body and soul would be in Bag End. Two out of three wasn't a bad lot in life, he supposed.  
Myrtle hooves clattered on the cobblestones as they drew closer to Bag End. He'd tie her to the gate for tonight, and take her to the stables on the morrow. The young lad who ran the stables wouldn't be there to welcome him if he went, now. He shushed Myrtle and gave her a carrot as he tied her to the post at the bottom of the hill.  
Gathering up the sleepy dragonet in his arms, and a few of the bags on his back, he trumped up the stones to the green door with the blue sigil. His heart gave a pang at the sight, but he pushed it open - and found himself face to point with a pitchfork.  
-  
"My deepest apologies Mister Baggins! I'm so sorry, I didn't recognize ya in those clothes, and ya had a pony, a-a-and those bags, and-"  
"Hamfast. It's quite alright!" Bilbo interrupted, before the other Hobbit could burst from his embarrassment. Hamfast was as red as one of Bilbo's prize tomatoes.  
Bilbo had been quite shocked when he opened his door to find Hamfast with a pitchfork brandished at him. It took quite some time for Bilbo to convince Hamfast that he was himself, and not some thief come to steal from Bag End. It made Bilbo's heart swell with pride that his neighbor had took it upon himself to guard his home after Bilbo had abruptly left that day.  
It had taken even longer to explain to Hamfast what exactly was in his arms, for upon the word 'Dragon', Hamfast had promptly fainted onto his wooden floors. The only dragons the Shire faced anymore were Gandalf's firework ones. And those were usually only once a year!  
But eventually, when Hamfast had come around and Bilbo had settled him into one of the armchairs in front of his hearth (which he had been busy stoking), he introduced Hamfast to Ilaurenda, who was all too happy to tell Hamfast all about herself.  
Hamfast had come around, with a few cups of tea, some scones his wife had made that morning, and much charm on Ilaurenda's part. Although Hamfast had to repeatedly tell Ilaurenda to quiet down, that his wife was asleep! It would be no good thing to rouse her.  
"I suppose I'll be off ta bed. O-oh! Yer room is still empty, Mister Baggins. We never took it." Hamfast informed, a small smile adorning his face. Bilbo returned it.  
It continued to amaze him the loyalty of his neighbor. Not only had he and his wife moved in to keep Bilbo's wretched family from claiming it, or worse, thieves from entering, they had never once laid claim to anything in Bilbo's home that had been Bilbo's. Instead of using the Master Bedroom that had its own bathroom, they used one of the many guest bedrooms and the guest bathrooms. They kept the pantry reasonably filled - although Bilbo would be sure to send all of the current stock home with them, or at least give them enough gold to fill their own pantry back at their smial. Hamfast and his children tended the garden together, keeping the herbs and vegetables weeded, and his shrubs and trees well watered and trimmed, in the case of the shrubs. Finally, and possibly the most touching, Hamfast had checked Bilbo's mail every day, and it was sorted into neat piles on the desk in his study.  
"Thank you, Hamfast. For everything. Surely, one could not wish for a better Neighbor and Friend." Bilbo said with sincerity. Hamfast flushed, and ducked his head before shuffling off before his wife possibly woke and wondered where he'd gone.  
Gathering up Ilaurenda a second time for that evening, Bilbo walked silently down the spacious halls to his bedroom. The door opened with a slight creak - he'd need to oil the hinges - and he slipped in quietly. Without bothering to change into nightclothes which he knew wouldn't fit his now leaner frame, he crawled up under the covers with Ilaurenda tucked in his arms. The dragonet churred at him sleepily and cuddled into his chest.  
He'd worry about his arrangements tomorrow.  
He let sleep envelop them both.


	3. Pleasantries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I made a slight error in the last chapter, which has been fixed. I accidentally said Bilbo was Seventy on the quest, rather than the canon Fifty. For whatever reason, I added up the years wrong, leading me to believe Bilbo was seventy for the quest. Oops.
> 
> Minor errors. Can't help it sometimes.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! I had fun writing it. For those of you who read the past version of Ilaurenda the Golden Heart, I apologize for not adding all the fluffy scenes from when Frodo, Sam, and Ilaurenda are growing up. I decided they were kind of unnecessary.
> 
> This fic is now just over the cusp of 20,000 words. oh my goodness!
> 
> Here are a few drawn references for Ilaurenda! Both a full reference sheet, and a size-chart.
> 
> http://valkyryn.deviantart.com/art/Ilaurenda-size-chart-520512954?ga_submit_new=10%253A1426479947
> 
> http://valkyryn.deviantart.com/art/Ilaurenda-the-Golden-Heart-Reference-519228262
> 
> P.S if you do fanart, I will giggle gleefully. Written or drawn, I love either <3

Bilbo was going to have to have a word with Ilaurenda. This habit of waking him up before the sun had even crested the horizon had to change. As it were, he drug a hand across his face blearily in his half-asleep state. The dragonet was on his heels as he padded quietly into the kitchen to make himself a spot of tea. Peppermint would do nicely to perk him up. It was his favorite, after all, and it had been so long since he'd had any to indulge in.  
Setting the kettle over the flames he had started with a match on some kindling, he waited in a chair patiently. Ilaurenda was busying herself quite nicely, sticking her nose into every crevice she could manage.  
"Are you hungry?" he implored, his eyes not quite open. A confirming chirp answered his question. With a groan he hefted himself out of his comfy chair and he headed to the pantry. Hamfast had said they kept some stores here, so he was not surprised to find some cold meats in the cold portion of the pantry. Divulging one of the utensil sets of a knife, he loaded up a plate with some cuts of the meat.  
Ilaurenda snubbed her nose up at them.  
"But you ate cooked meat at Rivendell!" Bilbo grumbled.  
"It's cold!" she snipped back childishly. Bilbo's sides inflated and deflated in a heavy sigh.  
"Fine. Then you must wait for them to warm on the stove. No whining!" he said with a wiggle of his finger. She nodded her head vigorously. He set the meats in a frying pan on the stove, striking up some kindling under that as well, as the Kettle was on the hearth, not the stove. Belatedly, he realized that was a silly thing to do. Now he would have two fires going. But it would warm the house up, he supposed. The chill bite to the air from outside had permeated inwards, and Bilbo was happy he had drawn a plush nightrobe over his clothes.  
Soon enough the kettle was whistling and the meat sizzling, and he had a cup of steaming peppermint tea steeping while Ilaurenda gorged herself on the now warm meats. He wasn't hungry quite yet, so Breakfast could wait. Although he would, after his tea, begin on preparing said meal for Hamfast and Bell and their children. It was the least he could do in thanks for them watching his smial.  
So, tea drank, he set to cooking and baking with a will.  
-  
A few hours later, Bilbo heard the telltale sound of little Hobbit feet thumping on the floors of Bag End. He was just pulling some biscuits out of the oven, so he couldn't turn around right away, but after he'd set the metal tray on the smooth stone counters and removed his oven mitts, he turned to find a small gaggle of children staring at him openly.  
The foremost and first to speak was young Samwise.  
"Mister Bilbo?" the small boy, who just came to his waist, asked sleepily. His siblings shuffled in their spots, eyes darting at the table, which was full of food.  
"Yes, my lad?" Bilbo smiled, wiping his hands on the apron he'd donned before beginning his task of preparing breakfast.  
"Who's that?" Sam continued, pointing to something to Bilbo's right. He followed the finger's direction, to find Ilaurenda, busy with her nose in a cabinet of pans. She was intruiged by the metalwork, and the 'tinging' sounds that came when she tapped her claws on them.  
"That, my boy, is Ilaurenda. She's a...Guest." Bilbo hesitated. Ilaurenda, realizing that the attention of the room was directed at her, popped her head out of the cabinet and stared at the gaggle boldly. Quite as boldly, she waddled over (Her belly not as close to the ground, now. Her legs seemed to have grown some) to the children, who squeaked in unison.  
"Who are you?" she peeped. Bilbo smiled as he watched the interaction take place. One after another, following Samwise's lead, the children introduced themselves to her.  
"What are you?" one asked after a long pause. Ilaurenda's head cocked to the side, her ears twitching, as if she'd heard something. Bilbo strained to hear, but couldn't. Perhaps Hamfast and Bell were waking up.  
"I'm a dragon!" she spoke triumphantly, puffing up her chest and flaring her wings, which the webbing had come in nicely so far. About a third of the space in between the fingers was developed. The children all gasped as one, and Ilaurenda gave the best little roar she could muster - it was quite pathetic in comparison to Smaug's, more a deep squeaking, but it had the desired effect and had the children gaping in awe and clambering to touch her.  
She handled this change with grace, positively glowing under the preening hands.  
And this was what Hamfast and Bell discovered upon entering the doorway connecting the hallway and the kitchen. Hamfast seemed outright giddy, but Bell was shocked. Bilbo did hope that Hamfast had talked to her about Ilaurenda before walking her out here, but some shock, Bilbo supposed, was warranted.  
After all, there hadn't been dragons in the shire for thousands of years. Finding one in your - in the kitchen was bound to be eye opening.  
"Mister Baggins! Good Morn'!" Hamfast chuckled, striding over to clap a hand onto Bilbo's shoulder. Bilbo staggered at the contact, but was otherwise pleased. He had missed all of this.  
"Good morning, Hamfast. Bell. I was up before the sun, thanks to a certain someone, so I set about making a hearty breakfast for you all as a thank you for watching my...home." Bilbo explained, smiling at both Hamfast and Bell in turn. Bell, it seemed, had gotten over her shock and had intervened when the children began to press too much on Ilaurenda, shooing her children away to the table to sit. Ilaurenda seemed happy to have the hoard off her case, and she expressed at much to Bell.  
"Thank you, miss." she said courteously, dipping her head. Bilbo, silently, was very proud of how developed Ilaurenda's speech had become.  
"Y-you're welcome dear." Bell stuttered back, smiling.  
They all sat down at the table, Ilaurenda included, and began to tuck in with a passion.  
They exchanged small talk, but Bilbo's mind was elsewhere that morning. It had been since he woke. His thoughts were swirling, rushing, but the content was more or less the same.  
This didn't feel like home anymore.  
-  
Over the next three days, Bilbo helped Hamfast, Bell and their children move back into their own humble smial. They hadn't brought much to Bag End, but their children's contents alone was the bulk of it.  
On the first day of his return, Bilbo had taken Myrtle to the stables, where he was assured she woud be allowed to roam in their pasture to her heart's content.  
On the second day, Ilaurenda had started a fight with Bilbo on why she couldn't go outside like the Gamgee's children and the adults could.  
On the third day, his smial was empty of life once more, save Ilaurenda's and his presence. It left him bereft and empty himself, and no amount of apologies for their fight yesterday from Ilaurenda would soothe his aching heart.  
-  
They settled into a routine together. Ilaurenda would wake Bilbo - they had compromised and Ilaurenda now waited to rouse him until _after_ the sun had peaked, Bilbo would make them breakfast and tea (He discovered that the dragon was quite fond of peppermint tea, as well), and after that he would go about the house doing something or another, Ilaurenda on his heels so she could learn to help. She was still disgruntled when Bilbo left her alone in the smial the first few times, but she soon got used to the fact she was not allowed outside.  
"Why?" she had asked.  
"Because. Hobbits of the Shire are particularly gossipy, and I don't want the men of Bree to hear about you until you're of a size where you can defend yourself if need be." Bilbo had explained, patiently.  
He wasn't prepared for her to grow so rapidly.  
Where she had been the size of a tomcat at birth, and a newborn-lamb by the time they returned to the Shire, she now was nearly the size of a pony! In only a year since they had returned to Bag End!  
She moved with grace and stealth in Bag End's hallways, the only sound betraying her being the soft click-clack of her talons (Which they had both agreed to blunt with the use of a rough stone) on the lacquered hardwood floors. Her shoulder reached Bilbo's, and her body spanned twice that height, not counting her almost infinitely long tail.  
She begged him to let her go outside.  
He refused, despite that all her scales and webbing had come in ages ago, settling nice and hard on her skin (the spot inside her ears was still as soft as a lambs ear). Even when her horns had sprouted, causing quite the mess one day when the scales had broken open in a bloody trickle.  
He grudgingly let her into the back garden, where at least she was hidden from view by the tall hedges. Here, she flapped her wings hard and took her first few feet into the air, hovering as she twisted and moved her wings in a fashion similar to a bird.  
She gardened with him, her love of the earth rivaled only by Hamfast's. She refused to eat vegetables still, unless they were cooked in a stew and all mushy. She didn't eat fruit, either. She ate plenty of meat, eggs, cheese, even drinking tea and milk.  
Their peace was hard-earned, Bilbo had decided. He remained firmly isolated from any gossip, not wanting to hear how "Odd Mister Baggins" was faring that week. His only ventures outside of his smial were to the market, the stable pastures to visit Myrtle, and occasionally for a walk.  
And one day that peace shattered.  
-  
Bilbo and Ilaurenda were outright lounging during Afternoon Tea, she in front of the hearth on the warm stones that had soaked up the fire's heat, and Bilbo in his mother's old rocking chair. A letter from one of his many cousins sat, unread, in his lap.  
He never got the chance to read it.  
The sound of the bell at the door was entirely unexpected. His brows furrowed. He wasn't expecting visitors. Setting his cup down, he gestured to Ilaurenda, who had raised her head in curiosity, telling her to ' _stay_ ' in their mind connection.  
He had long ago learned to utilize said connection. When Ilaurenda refused to divulge something to him when she was in trouble, he pulled on their connection and threatened to discover it for himself by reading her thoughts, until she spilled the beans. She utilized it as well, often soothing him when he entered one of his depressed spells.  
The guest at the door was...Surprising. There on his doorstep, stood the Thain, Isengrim, one of his cousins.  
"Bilbo. Afternoon, I'm sorry to interrupt tea, but I'm afraid this couldn't wait any longer. Did you get my letter?" Isengrim asked after Bilbo had invited him in. A touch too late, Bilbo realized the letter that had gone unread in his lap had in fact, been from Isengrim.  
He had the decency to blush.  
"I'm afraid not, cousin. My affairs have kept me horridly busy, I'm afraid." Bilbo lied, directing Isengrim to the kitchen rather than the sitting room, where Ilaurenda still was, after checking the link for her location. If Isengrim was surprised by this change of protocol, he showed no signs.  
"Drat. Bilbo, this needed immediate tending to. If you weren't so holed up in here you'd know already what was in that letter." Isengrim said sharply, making Bilbo recoil in shock. Isengrim was a Took, but he was not known for being so blunt.  
"Speak plainly, please. What ails you?" Bilbo asked, pulling off a hot kettle and offering his cousin some tea. Isengrim waved Bilbo off.  
"No time. We have to be off soon, anyhow, you and me." Isengrim started, wringing his hands together. Whatever was on his mind was taking a heavy toll, and Bilbo was worried.  
"Primula and Drogo had an accident on one of their boating trips. They've drowned, Bilbo. We couldn't find the bodies, washed downstream I wager." Isengrim blurted, eyes full of grief. While Isengrim wasn't related to either, Bilbo knew that the Thain was close to all his Hobbits.  
This news startled Bilbo - so badly that Ilaurenda reached out in their connection, worried for him. Supporting himself on the table, Bilbo let out a shuddering gasp.  
"D-dead?" Bilbo asked, not quite believing it.  
"Yeah, Bilbo...And for the past few days he's been with Lobelia, but I think it'd be better for their son to be with you. You always make those comments about how empty your home is, well Frodo'd help make that a little less so." Isengrim revealed, settling a hand over Bilbo's.  
"Frodo...Oh the poor lad. Of course he can stay with u- Me." Bilbo hastily corrected. Ilaurenda's presence was still mostly secret, the Gamgee's being the only others to know of her. Bilbo, it seemed, wasn't going to be let off easily.  
"Us?" Isengrim asked, a brow quirked.  
"Uh... Um.. No, just me." Bilbo stammered, his heart hammering in his chest. Ilaurenda keened in his mind. He knew he should calm his frantic heart, for her sake, but he was caught.  
"Who's here with you Bilbo? Is that why you're so quiet all the time? Why you never leave your smial? Are they in the sitting room, and that's why you didn't show me there like proper?" his cousin asked, his questions relentless. Bilbo buckled.  
"I.. I have had a guest for the past year, yes. They came with me from my adventure." he admitted quietly. Isengrim's face split into a wide smile.  
"Why Bilbo! Have you finally settled down? Find a nice lass on your journey, eh? Let me meet 'er!" Isengroom insisted, gripping Bilbo's hand and beginning to drag him into the sitting room. Bilbo panicked.  
"You can't! She - she - she's awfully shy, which is why she never comes out with me." Bilbo quickly lied.  
"Nonsense!" Isengrim boasted, and instantly swallowed his words upon entering the sitting room, where he was practically nose-to-nose with Ilaurenda, whose head was raised up on her powerful neck.  
"Aah! Bilbo what is that! Is that a dragon?!" Isengrim shouted, eyes wide as he hurriedly backpedaled. He met an end table, stopping his backwards progress. Bilbo stepped in between the two of them, hands up placatingly.  
"No, Isengrim, please, don't panic!" he urged desperately. His cousin's eyes were trained on Ilaurenda's, unable to tear them away from the dragon's.  
"This...Is my guest." Bilbo said thickly, reaching a hand back. Ilaurenda ducked her head under the offered palm, and Bilbo calmed a bit at the warmth.  
"A dragon? This is what you've been hiding, Bilbo?" Isengrim whispered, as if Ilaurenda wouldn't hear.  
"I'm not just a dragon, you know." Ilaurenda snorted, unamused. Isengrim wavered, looking like he was about to faint.  
"I'm Bilbo's friend. And he's mine. I don't come out, for my safety." she explained calmly. Isengrim visibly swallowed.  
"A-and... Yer name?" he asked, quite bravely, if Bilbo were judging.  
"Ilaurenda." she replied, bowing her head, thus taking it from Bilbo's hand. He yearned after the contact for a moment, but straightened.  
"Cousin...Shouldn't we go see to Frodo?" he suggested softly. Isengrim's eyes met his, and the other Hobbit nodded after a long pause.  
"May I come with you? I could carry his things..." Ilaurenda asked sheepishly. Bilbo glanced at her, to see if she was joking. She wasn't.  
"My dear I don't..."  
"Bilbo, why not? It'll shock the Shire out of their gossip about you being a hermit, that's for sure. You need more air. If her being out and about will allow for that, then I say let her." Isengrim said boldly, with more conviction than Bilbo felt about the suggestion. Isengrim was quickly recovering from his shock, and had gone so far as to step forward, looking Ilaurenda over.  
"She's still small, compared to the old drakes. But you can't keep her cooped up in here forever." Isengrim continued, pushing. Bilbo heaved a sigh, bowing his head, shaking it slightly as a smile began to creep onto his face.  
"I suppose the Shire is due for some new gossip, right my dear?" Bilbo chuckled quietly, petting her head. She gave a loud squeal and hefted her body up onto her legs.  
-  
The air upon opening Bag End's front door was a welcome change. Ilaurenda snorted, and shoved Bilbo squarely between the shoulders after allotting him what she deemed to be plenty of time. Bilbo glowered at her, but ducked out of the Hobbit Hole and onto the cobblestones that marked the path down to the gate, which he promptly opened for Isengrim, who was right behind him.  
Wiggling her right paw, Ilaurenda held her breath as she placed her first step outside of Bag End's door.  
Right onto a stray stone.  
She gave a short exclamation, glaring at the sharp pebble before unleashing a loud hiss that bared her many fangs. She flung it aside with little care as to where it flew.  
Her first step ruined, she glowered and hurriedly followed the two Hobbits down the path, her form long and sinuous. She reveled in the warm sunlight of the mostly clear afternoon sky, briefly longing to fly into the puffy white clouds. She steered her attention on Bilbo and Isengrim as she slid through the open gate - her wings brushing the two stone posts it was built into. If she grew much more, she would have to hop over the gate in order to get out!  
Her heart pounded gleefully at that thought.  
She was in awe of the rolling hills swathed in thick viridian grasses, dotted with flowers of all kinds and colors. She was even more amazed by the other smials nestled into those hills, complete with a front yard and fence, mailbox, most of them donning ceramic flower beds or pots. Her mouth fell open slightly as she made an appreciative crooning noise.  
Until the other Hobbits saw her. They outright shrieked in terror, some of them. Others, eyes wide, retreated back behind their round doors, herding small fauntlings with them. But more amazing were the sparse children that roamed about on their own - they shouted with glee, not terror, and ran up to her and her companions. All of them clambering to get close to her and asking questions, demanding answers.  
She gave a snort and lowered her head to their height, smiling. She didn't fan out her massively wide wings, thinking that might turn the tables and scare them. But she allowed one of the younger Hobbits to climb onto the space right in front of her shoulders, and ride her like they would a pony.  
Unfortunately there wasn't much room for any more fauntlings on her back, despite the length of her spine. She had to lay flat her spines in order for just this one to ride her. But the others seemed happy enough that she was giving them attention as they walked down the cobblestones of Bagshot row.  
She answered what questions she could. Her name, how old she was, where she lived, could she really fly? All manner of silly questions that she was more than happy to respond to. She soon had a gaggle of around nine of them following her, and the one proudly perched on her back, bouncing in his seat.  
The adult Hobbits, seeing this, gradually stopped screaming or hiding. Rather, they began to look on with avid curiosity. After all, if she was good with children, that was all that really mattered. Children are terribly dear to all Hobbits, she'd learned long ago. That Bilbo didn't have any of his own underfoot at his age was rather... Odd.  
They made slow progress to their destination, with her being laden down with her admirers, but eventually they came across a smial with a gaudily bright yellow door. It wasn't the pleasantly soft and pale yellow that was on the softer parts of her body - namely her paws (Which she didn't understand why she never grew scales there, but the skin was tougher than most tanned leather, so she didn't complain).  
Bilbo shooed the children away when they reached the gate to that horrendous smial. The front yard was surprisingly well kempt, she noticed. Almost as if the owners were trying to outdo their neighbors. Bilbo plucked the youngest Hobbit off her shoulders, and set the lad down to run after his companions.  
"Well, here we are, my dear. Lobelia Sackville-Bagginses home. Do stay outside, would you? We'll be out shortly with young Frodo." Bilbo asked charmingly. Ilaurenda was happy to oblige. After the two male Hobbits had disappeared behind the door - after knocking and being invited in, of course - she flared her wings and burst into the air.  
If only for the short hop it took to get to the top of the smial. She didn't want her first flight beyond the garden to be without Bilbo. So she busied herself with a nap on the sun-touched grasses, basking in the golden rays that reflected brightly off her gleaming scales.  
-  
Bilbo had a lump in his throat the moment they'd knocked on the door. It only got worse when it was Lobelia's husband, Otho, welcoming them in with a grim frown. Lobelia and her husband weren't known for their hospitality, with any Hobbit. Unless they wanted something.  
In this case, they proved to be very rude because instead of being given something, Bilbo intended to take.  
"You cannot take him!" Lobelia shrilled, resolutely crossing her arms and stamping a foot. Isengrim held up his hands in a gesture that was meant to be soothing. It didn't work.  
"Now, now, Lobelia. Young Frodo should be with someone who can devote all their time to him! He was an only child after all, and is not used to his guardian's attention being divided amongst other children." Isengrim argued smartly. Bilbo wasn't sure if this was the right thing to say, for Lobelia downright burned red with anger.  
"Are you saying we can't care for him?!" she damn near shrieked. Bilbo resisted shoving fingers into his ears to block out her high pitch warbling.  
"N-no, Lobelia! Just sayin' that Mister Bilbo here has more time on his hands, with no little 'uns under foot!" Isengrim stuttered, clearly trying to backpedal. Bilbo didn't hear Lobelia's next shrill cry - he was focused on the small figure that had materialized in the doorway of the Sackville-Bagginses sitting room, where Lobelia had grudgingly served them tea and some little finger sandwiches. None of which Bilbo touched - he was fine with his tea, even if it wasn't peppermint, and was a warm citrus spice. Lobelia did have good taste in tea, he had to admit. She spared no expense on her luxuries - he was sure this wasn't their finest, either.  
Little Frodo, having heard the commotion, had stumbled across Bilbo and the other adults in their heated discussion, it seemed. Bilbo was the only one to notice him, though. The poor lad looked awful. His hair was shaggy and unkempt - probably had refused to allow anyone near his precious little head with a comb or brush. His face was smudged with some dirt and grime, indicating he hadn't had a bath in at least a day, goodness knows if it had been multiple. His feet were caked with dried mud and bits of grass, lending to that belief further. Lobelia had probably scolded him fiercely for trodding mud into the carpets. And his clothes were clearly disheveled, leading Bilbo to think he hadn't changed since yesterday at the least.  
Setting his cup and saucer down on the end table to his side, he pointedly ignored Lobelia's cries of "And where do you think you're going, Bilbo?!" and "How rude!", and approached the fauntling, kneeling down so he was eye to eye with him. The boy's eyes were full of tears threatening to breach. Determinedly, Bilbo stroked his thumbs across the boy's cheeks and wiped the tears away before bringing him into a warm hug. Frodo froze at first, but then Bilbo grunted as the boy's arms all but slapped across his back as Frodo threw them around to grasp him tightly.  
"Shhh....Don't worry my boy. I'll have you in my smial and right as rain before supper." Bilbo whispered, stroking the child's back.  
"And why would he be in _your_ smial?!" Lobelia sneered. Bilbo merely turned his head to glare at her.  
"I'm taking him, and if you've got anything else to say about that, you can talk to my dragon who is waiting outside." Bilbo snapped, scooping Frodo into his arms.  
"Isengrim, be a dear and gather Frodo's things? I'll be outside with Ilaurenda." Bilbo continued to speak, despite Lobelia's sputtering. She had turned as white as a sheet, and was blathering on about a dragon being in the Shire.  
Bilbo ignored her, and walked out.  
Ilaurenda was no where to be seen. His eyes narrowed as he sighed.  
_Dear heart, wherever you are, you need to come out_. was what he sent through their connection. He searched for her presence, feeling her heart beating somewhere behind him. And up? Surely she hadn't taken to the skies!  
_I'm here_. was his only reply. He turned around, not quite having left the Sackville-Bagginses front yard. Ah. There she was, lying comfortably on top of the smial's grassy slope as if it were her own personal lounge.  
"Come on, we've a fauntling to sort out." Bilbo called to her, and he swung their gate open and walked out.  
He didn't care that he left the gate wide open, and it was all manner of rude to do so.  
No children gathered around them this time, although they eyed Ilaurenda from a distance with giggles and bright faces. They likely had seen young Frodo - who was barely old enough to talk - and had decided to give them space.  
Bilbo was glad for it.  
Ilaurenda walked behind him, occasionally whuffing through Bilbo or Frodo's hair with her snout. The first time she did this, Frodo looked up with wide eyes, openly gawking in amazement. He had reached a chubby little hand out to her, which she then nuzzled with the appropriate amount of adoration and fondness the lad needed. Having fully expected Frodo to be fussier than this, Bilbo was pleasantly surprised that the boy didn't even wiggle while he was carried for the nearly fifteen minutes it took to get to the other end of Bagshot row to Bag End.  
Bilbo nudged open the gate with one hand, the other hefting Frodo up further. When he glanced behind him he saw Ilaurenda closing it behind her with her not-so-deft, pudgy digits. But she managed it well enough, and was slinking after Bilbo, who'd gone straight inside Bag End and was depositing Frodo on his favorite armchair in the sitting room.  
He eyed Frodo up and down for a moment, before a weariness took him over. He wouldn't say he was sorry for the boy. He knew that Frodo had heard it more than enough in the past few days. He knew, by personal experience.  
After all. The Fell Winter was a fresh hurt, fourty-one years later.  
<  
_The snows had fallen deep this year, surprising all of Hobbiton by shutting them tightly in their homes due to the sheer amount blocking their doors. Even if a Hobbit could shove their door open, the many layers of snow proved too difficult to clear from the paths to the main roads. By the time they'd cleared anything, it was already piling up behind them and threatening to trap them outside._  
_So the Hobbits shuttered their windows, and prepared for a long winter._  
_No horn sounded when the wolves appeared._  
_They came out of nothing, their white pelts making them all but disappear in the falling flakes, and the hills of it on the ground._  
_The first they heard was the howling._  
_Then, the doors were subjected to torment at the wolves' claws._  
_After that were the screams._  
_They were breaking into homes, pouncing on helpless families. Some managed to fight back with kitchen knives or gardening tools, but few survived once their doors were broken down._  
_Belladonna Baggins nee Took and her husband, Bungo Baggins, were sure that their smial would withstand any attack._  
_They were wrong._  
_They came a bit past midnight, and they did not hear them coming. The wolves gave no howls this night, leading Hobbiton to believe they would be safe under the half-moon. It wasn't until young Bilbo, sleepily rubbing his eyes and toddling out in the halls with his blanket dragging behind him, heard the thunking against the door. He knew not to open it, that wolves could get in if he did. But what if someone was out there? Someone who needed help?_  
_With that thought in mind, he unbolted the door - and was thrown to the side by the force that barreled in, smacking him with the door and pinning him behind it. The door was thoroughly wedged into the wall it normally would lightly tap against when opened all the way. And Bilbo was stuck in the little niche it created._  
_He would sob as he heard his parents shout, fighting for their lives. He would sniffle quietly to himself when they stopped, and he could hear the wolves cracking bones in their maws, snapping at each other. He'd fall silent when he heard their heavy paws thumping down the hallways and past the doorway. He'd begin crying anew when the claws started scratching at the round door that kept him trapped. A huge maw stuck its way in through one of the two gaps on either side, and growled as it tried to get at him._  
_But the more the wolves pushed the door, the more the door wedged._  
_It wasn't until dawn that the wolves gave up, leaving Bilbo to curl in on himself for the five days it took the Shiriffs to discover him. He'd been taken to Tookborough, the Great Smials for the duration of the Fell Winter, after that._  
_When the snow finally melted, he'd been surrounded by family members, close and distant, telling him how sorry they were for his loss. How they were sorry his parents were killed. That they wish they'd been there to help._  
_He knew they were all lying._  
_And thus began his bitterness towards general Hobbit kind. He was raised in the Smials until he hit 15, where they decided it would be best for him to go back home and inherit Bag End._  
_He remained bitter, but held himself accountable for the expected respectability that came with his name. And he lived up to it. Nothing unexpected ever happened._  
>  
The memory faded as he looked into Frodo's blue eyes. Blue...Like someone else he knew, although a different shade than theirs. He lost himself in those eyes, letting them root himself back to the present, despite the fact that his thoughts lingered elsewhere.  
It had been a year and a bit since he'd abandoned Erebor to its fate, leaving behind those he had come to consider family, without so much as a goodbye. Except...  
Fili.  
He'd gotten to say goodbye to him, surprisingly. He'd been shocked that Thorin, even wounded, had allowed them to speak before Bilbo was completely and utterly banished from Erebor. What he'd give to see Fili again... To know he was healthy, recovered, and thriving. Kili too, and the rest of the dwarrows. Even Thorin...  
As he drew Frodo into another firm hug, he thought on how he'd never see any of them again.  
Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he couldn't bite back the sob that filled his throat. Frodo joined his quiet cries, for an entirely different reason than Bilbo's. He could feel the both of them being drawn back by something with thick claws, into the spot before the hearth.  
He wept all the more as Ilaurenda curled herself around the pair of them, adding her silent misery. For she could shed no tears.  
-  
_59 years later_  
-  
A roar echoed across the Shire.  
There was a noise like a hurricane, and a wind making the oaks creak and crack.  
A shadow fell across Hobbiton.  
Fits of laughter could be heard echoing from above.  
Bilbo shaded his face from the bright, summer sun with a hand. He strained his neck to see what he sought. In the distance a shape dropped below a puff of cloud, and Bilbo grinned madly.  
Ilaurenda had taken to giving the children of Hobbiton rides in a intricately made sort of saddle that could seat five individuals. Ilaurenda could seat more, as her neck was long enough, but she and Bilbo deemed that five passengers was more than plenty.  
He knew that seated foremost was Frodo, as always. Their parents wouldn't let them go up unless someone was supervising, so up Frodo went.  
The lad had long since passed his majority, about fourty years ago, but he insisted on staying with Bilbo to keep his 'uncle' occupied. In reality, they were cousins, but Bilbo had made Frodo call him uncle since the day he'd brought him home to toddle around Bag End. Frodo kept Bilbo occupied, most days, but Bilbo would insist that Frodo go and visit with his friends regularly. Samwise, Meriadoc, and Pippin chiefly.  
Bilbo smiled longingly after the shadow that passed overhead. It was approaching Bilbo's anniversary...The anniversary of him and Ilaurenda leaving Erebor. Bilbo always grew solemn and reclusive during that week. Ilaurenda and Frodo did their best to cheer him up - supplying him with all manner of sweet things and other Hobbit-y gifts, but Bilbo couldn't stomach more than a few meals a day, and while he smiled and fondly displayed whatever gifts were given, they knew his heart wasn't in it.  
He wasn't fooling anybody.  
He sighed, and busied himself with a bucket of coal - he had been keeping himself occupied that morning by refilling the pit that Ilaurenda slept around at night. It needed refilling every week or so, and today just happened to be the day it needed filling. She would light it herself every night - snuffing it out with a great gust of her wings. He wished more suitable arrangements could be made for her, but until he knew just how big she would get, he was hardly capable of providing her a large enough home.  
She said she was satisfied, mostly. She complained during the winter, when she got buried in snow while she slept - but she made sure not to do it around Bilbo, knowing that he longed to make her better sleeping quarters.  
Treading heavily up the slope and back beyond his back garden, he dumped the bucket in. He went back to the front, where a steady supply was waiting in a wagon by his gate. He received the shipment of coal once every two weeks - and it lasted with enough to spare for the inside. During the winter it was harder - all the coal being given to Ilaurenda, so he had to use wood chunks to heat everything.  
He was in the back when he felt the earth tremble. That only meant one thing.  
She'd landed.  
-  
When Bilbo had heard the news, he was not the least bit pleased, and had retreated to his study, sitting firmly in his chair and refusing to budge.  
He would not get his hopes up.  
He wouldn't prepare anything.  
He wouldn't -  
Tears streaked down his cheeks, cutting down the black dust that had been gathering due to his laboring task of moving coal.  
Dwarrows had come to the Shire.  
Ilaurenda had landed, true enough, but not to pick up another load of fauntlings. Having deposited her quarry, she'd taken off again - not even Frodo in the saddle. The Hobbit children who had been waiting for their turn were severely upset that they had been spurned.  
Quite perplexed about this turn of events, as Ilaurenda wasn't one to tire quickly, Bilbo had called out to her through their Bond. She was peculiarly silent. Puzzled, Bilbo had sat down on the bench to wait her out.  
When she finally talked to him next, it was with ill tidings. She had been spotted - and in turn she spotted, a traveling company of Dwarrows. She fled before they could try and attack - despite the fact she was several hundred feet in the air and any bows (if they even had any) would fall utterly short of her height. She'd returned to Bag End, grim, and delivered the news.  
Bilbo had silently gone inside.  
Where he now sat, just as silently, crying. After all these years...It couldn't possibly be his Dwarrows.  
No.  
Thorin wouldn't allow any of them to come. Even if Thorin was...Dead...Fili and Kili would be too busy ruling to come visit. Only a few of _his_ company would have the luxury of a venture to the Shire, and even then he wasn't so sure. What if they had taken up jobs that wouldn't allow for them to leave the mountain?  
No.  
That just confirmed it. These were not his Dwarrows and that was that.  
The tinkling bell of his front door startled him out of his wallowing.  
"Frodo would you get that?" Bilbo called out, too absorbed in his misery to get up. He was met with silence.  
_Dear heart, who is here?_ he sent, trying for Ilaurenda. Again he was met with silence.  
Then that damn bell tinkled again, a bit more insistently.  
Grumbling, he shouted at whoever it was to be patient - that he was coming! This didn't stop the bell from going off again during his trek from his study to the door. He swung it open wide, watching it to make sure it wouldn't get caught in the dent from the Fell Winter when it lodged itself in the wall. When he looked back up, however...

  
He fainted.


	4. Emeralds and Cornflowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added a couple more tags, due to some things that have happened in this chapter. Nothing huge, at least not in my eyes. Just some creative licencing on some Dwarrows' genders.
> 
> Mention of major character death in this chapter, but not the actual death itself.
> 
> The song in this chapter doesn't come from anywhere - I wrote it myself. I'd provide an audio for it but I have no way to do so. So if anyone feels like creating a melody for it, then please, feel free to do so! <3

  
He was having the most pleasant dream. He and Ilaurenda had taken a holiday, visiting Rivendell, where she would absorb all that she could in the massive library. She loved to learn, after all. It was only a shame that she couldn't read the tiny scripture any longer, being much too large compared to the tomes. She could see better than a hawk, of course, but the miniscule symbols proved too small for her eyes.  
Reading to her in the library, he was quite upset by the fact that someone - several someones, were talking. Quite loudly. He shushed them repeatedly, but the voices only grew in volume. They seemed to be arguing amongst themselves.  
Wait.  
His eyes scrunched up and he groaned. The voices weren't in his dream - they were real, deep tones that were arguing over something in another, guttural language.  
His eyes shot open.  
Khuzdul - that little bit, he remembered. While he didn't understand the tongue, or Iglishmek, he remembered what both sounded or looked like, respectively.  
Khuzdul meant Dwarrows.  
Oh no.  
His eyes darted across the sitting room, where he was neatly tucked in to his favorite armchair, complete with a soft blanket. He saw no one in the room with him.  
He could however, hear the clatter of silverware on ceramic. Oh heavens, they were in his dining room! Raiding his pantry, no doubt! He flung the blanket off of him, with some struggle, and positively _thumped_ his way to the dining room across the hall.  
"Now see here, I will not be having a pack of Dwarrows invading my-" His voice caught in his throat as he entered. There, all suddenly silent around the table, was at least half of _his_ company of Dwarrows. Tears prickled at his eyes as his mouth hung open.  
_What a glorious entrance, Bilbo._ he scolded himself. His eyes fell to the floor and his raised hand fell to his side.  
"Bilbo?" a voice called. He didn't look up. He knew who it was who was speaking, even after all these long years.  
"Yes, Bofur?" he choked out. A shuffle of boots. A heavy hand fell to his shoulder.  
"We missed you." the dwarf said quietly. Bilbo forced himself to look Bofur in the face. It was the least he could do, for running off without a single goodbye. A tear cut down his cheek, and he feared for more - until he was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace. He started to sputter, looking around wildly, until he heard the chairs squeaking against the floor, more boots, and felt more arms closing around him.  
The dam broke.  
He buried his face into Bofur's shoulder, clutching at him, and whoever else he could. They were here. He had his Dwarrows back. He sniffled ungracefully as the circle of arms broke, and the Dwarrows all gave him some space. The tears continued to flow from his eyes, but there was a shaky smile on his face, too.  
"You came..." he whispered, his voice straining.  
"Aye laddie. More of us would've, but some had duties they couldn't abandon for even a short while." a voice grumbled. Dwalin. Bofur still had a firm grasp on one of Bilbo's shoulders, but he had enough leeway to look at all of them.  
Bofur, Bifur, Dwalin, Ori, Dori, and Gloin.  
"Is this all of you, then?" Bilbo asked, clearing his throat. Gloin shook his head.  
"Nah, we have three more mouths comin'." the red-headed Dwarf replied. Bilbo nodded, and glanced at the table. They had been eating, alright, but hardly anything was laid out. Seemed they didn't want to raid his pantry after all.  
"I...I'll fix something up for supper then, shall I?" he suggested, smile still present. A few chuckles sounded, but no complaints arose.  
"You all... Tuck in to what you've got, I'll ready the meal." Bilbo all but ordered, though his voice sounded feeble to him. The Dwarrows separated, and returned to their seats. They resumed their conversation - but at a much quieter volume, and still in Khuzdul. Although Dwalin seemed firmly against whatever they were talking about, same with Ori, who sat at his side. The blonde scribe had not-so-discretely, placed a hand upon Dwalin's leg.  
Bilbo beamed at that. He always knew that something would come of those two. They'd been subtle about it on the journey, but Bilbo knew the signs of courting when he saw them. Even if the courting rituals were vastly different, the exchange of gifts was all too recognizable. Not that Bilbo had ever been courted, since his return. Oh he'd had several Hobbits fancying him before he'd left - but now... Not a soul cared for him.  
He blushed when he realized he was still watching the two of them - and he hurried to the kitchen, where some noise was being made. His brows furrowed. The Dwarrows said that more were to come, but surely they hadn't meant anyone was simply not present in the room?  
He poked his head in first, and heaved a relieved sigh. It was just Frodo, working at preparing something.  
"Trying your hand at cooking for Dwarrows then, lad?" he asked, startling Frodo badly. His nephew looked outright scared.  
"What is it, m'boy?" Bilbo worried, entering and taking a look into the oven. He had a roast cooking. Good.  
"O-oh... Uh, they said not to worry about it." Frodo mumbled. Odd. Frodo wasn't one to mumble.  
"Worry about what, Frodo?" Bilbo insisted. Frodo sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with a flour-covered hand, probably forgetting it was dusted with the white powder.  
"The remaining Dwarrows who are coming, that's all." he replied, although Bilbo sensed there was more he wasn't telling him. He decided to let Frodo keep his secrets. After all, they had a meal to prepare for a large amount of guests.  
"Very well. Thank you for getting started, let's get busy, shall we?" Bilbo grinned, rubbing his hands together.  
-  
Bilbo was absolutely flying across the kitchen as he prepared the Dwarrows' meal. They had a roast in the oven (almost done), several loaves of sliced white bread (smothered with butter and a bit of garlic rubbed into it), he'd recruited the dwarves to haul up one of his special reserve kegs (telling them they each were limited to two from that keg, they could have as much as they wanted of the plain ale), three plates of cold cut meats and cheeses, a large bowl filled with about fourteen baked potatoes (accompanied by a bowl of shredded sharp cheddar, and a little tray with a few slabs of warm butter), and lastly there was a great many grilled fish on a huge round platter (seasoned with several herbs, and complete with a bowl of lemon wedges, and another little tray with butter).  
Frodo helped where he could, but mainly he was busy toting the many plates and bowls out to the dining room table, where the Dwarrows, surprisingly, did not eat. When asked by Bilbo, who had on an apron, after he'd finished cooking, they said they were waiting for the rest of their company, and what they'd had earlier would tide them over until then. That was... Odd.  
He'd only known the Dwarrows to wait for one person... And that was... Thorin.  
He nearly fainted again, and he just about leaped out of his skin when he heard the pounding on his door. Just like Thorin had done. Oh no...He was shaking as he slowly shuffled towards the door - all the Dwarrows' eyes were on him.  
When he opened the door... His heart stopped.  
There was a Durin on his doorstep.  
But not the Durin he had feared.  
"F...Fili?" came the strained whisper, surely from his own lips.  
What made it more shocking, and nearly caused him to faint all over again, was the little blond Dwarrowling on his hip. A girl, possibly, as no stubble had grown in yet. He wasn't sure of her actual age, but she looked like a Fauntling of about three. She could very well be much older than that in Dwarf terms.  
"Bilbo..." His attention was brought back to the blonde Dwarf male holding the Dwarrowling. He was suddenly very aware the worn look on Fili's face. And how much older he looked - almost haggard. He cleared his throat, tucked his thumbs behind his suspenders, and stepped out of the way. Fili didn't move.  
"Ah...How old is she?" Bilbo asked awkwardly.  
"I'm nineteen." came the small, slightly feminine voice.  
"And I'm seventy-one!" cried a different voice. Blinking rapidly, Bilbo looked for the source and found it in a bright-red haired, much older, Dwarrowling. Still a bit shorter than Fili, he looked like he had some growing left to do.  
"Aye...But you're still not to your majority yet, Gimli." Fili chuckled, patting the lad's head fondly. The dwarrowling - Gimli - bristled under the contact.  
"I'm an adult!" he grumbled, not really fighting it. Fili smiled and removed his hand, clutching it around the girl once more.  
"Er...I remember Gimli is Gloin's, yes? Erm...Is she yours?" Bilbo asked quietly, sweat beading on his brow. He dreaded to hear the answer.  
"What? No. She's Dwalin's." Fili seemed a bit disturbed at the question, but answered it regardless. Bilbo held back the great sigh he'd wanted to let out.  
"Dwalin and Ori adopted, then? I didn't know there were any children to spare, unless. Oh my, I shan't ask what happened." Bilbo backpedaled, holding a hand over his mouth to stifle anything else he'd wanted to say.  
"Adopted? Bilbo what are you talking about? She's Dwalin and Ori's by blood." Fili scoffed.  
"Dwalin and Ori are my parents!" the girl offered brightly, little hazel eyes looking at Bilbo affectionately. Bilbo openly gawked.  
"B-b-but, how? Two men cannot -" his eyes widened as he came to the realization.  
"One of them is a dam, aren't they?" he asked, his voice barely audible. Why this was a shocker to him, he didn't know. Dwarrowdams were fiercely protected, it was a part of their culture. They also, once their beards had come in, were almost impossible to tell from their male counterparts. He only wondered now which one of them he'd mistaken.  
"Ori is the mother, aye." Fili confirmed, hefting the Dwarrowling higher on his hip. Gimli watched on with feigned interest. Bilbo ran his hands down his face. Well, at least he hadn't gotten Dwalin's gender wrong. He'd called Dwalin by male pronouns on several occasions - he'd never really needed to address Ori, despite talking with him - her - frequently. Now, he wondered, who else had he addressed wrongly? Certainly not Gloin, he talked far too often of his wife for Bilbo to consider him female. Thorin was undoubtedly male, he'd been called King under the Mountain, not Queen. But the rest? He wondered, indeed.  
"Oh! Um, please come in." Bilbo invited, remembering himself, despite the eerie air the smial had taken on. He turned around, and found a gaggle of Dwarrows had been spying on them. He glared at the pack and several coughs burst out before they dispersed.  
Ori came forward, and held his - Her! - arms out for the little girl. The little one was easily transferred.  
"Did you find your toy, Yori?" Ori cooed, bumping their foreheads together. She nodded vigorously, and held up a rather nice looking stuffed toy - Bilbo guessed it might be a horse of some kind? It had short, round ears, a long snout with a bulbous end, four plump legs, and - oh yes. On the neck and the bottom were many bunched strands of yarn, representing the mane and tail. Definitely a horse, or at least a pony.  
From what Bilbo had gathered, she'd dropped her toy and not noticed for a while. So when she did notice, she demanded they go back for the stuffed animal. Not wanting to delay everybody, Fili volunteered to take her, and Gimli insisted he join them as well. For what purpose, Bilbo couldn't figure out.  
With the Dwarroling - Yori - safely in Ori's arms, Fili ushered Gimli to his father - the Dwarrowling grumbled immensely, but entered the dwelling regardless. Only then, did Fili enter. Bilbo didn't shut the door right away - he poked his head outside and looked around to see if Ilaurenda was about. He couldn't immediately feel her heartbeat, so she must be off somewhere. Possibly hunting - she did get hungry every few days. Her slow metabolism allowed for her to gorge every three to five days, and she was sustained just fine until the next opportunity to hunt came about.  
Satisfied that the Dwarrows had not come upon Ilaurenda, Bilbo ducked back inside and shut the door. He turned around and made to retreat to his study - when he was forcefully pulled into a rib-bruising hug. His arms were even pinned, so he couldn't hug whoever it was back! He glanced to the side, and was dreadfully aware of how blonde that hair was.  
Fili was hugging him. _Fili was hugging him_.  
After what felt like a lifetime, with his heart threatening to leap up and out his throat, Fili pulled away, but held Bilbo at arm's length, appraising him with those weary eyes. They seemed particularly dull, not the bright silver-blue he remembered. His brows furrowed as he examined Fili back. The prince - was he still a prince? - was thinner than he remembered. His beard was fuller, too. He had a perpetually tired look about him. The only things that seemed lively were his clothes! Rich sapphire blue, with black trim and silver embroidery. He had furs over his shoulders, echoing the look that Thorin had donned when he first met him, as well as some linked armor like Thorin had been wearing.  
Bilbo knew there were all manner of sharp things hidden beneath those layers. Why, when they had been captured in Mirkwood by Legolas, he swore he'd seen at least ten daggers revealed! All in incredibly hidden places, too. He wondered if he kept one on his inner thigh - he certainly kept one on his outer thigh. Perhaps at the nape of his neck, too? Wait, oh goodness. What was he doing! Imagining intimate places Fili would have stashed weapons - how dreadful of him.  
A blush crept onto his face as he was _still_ subject to that piercing gaze. Looks like he learned something from Thorin. Fili's eyes finally lifted and caught his. His heart jumped into his throat. The way Fili was looking at him...With such affection and like he was sorely missing something. Bilbo swallowed thickly - there was no way Fili was looking at him like this. He just missed Bilbo's friendship, that was all. It had to be.  
Fili sighed, pulling a hand back to run it through his golden mane. There were a few more braids than there had been when they went on the quest. One had...Was that Kili's bead? Where was Kili?  
"Fili...Where's your brother?" Bilbo asked softly. The two were hardly ever separated. Surely Kili would join them shortly? But Gloin had said only three more mouths, and with Yori, Gimli and Fili that filled the quota. Was Kili left behind at Erebor for princely duties? That didn't make any sense, Fili was Crown Prince, not Kili.  
"Let's sit." was the only reply he got. Bilbo glanced at the other Dwarrows, shocked that an all-encompassing shadow had fallen over their faces. Very concerned, Bilbo allowed himself to be led to his sitting room, where he let Fili have his armchair. He sat in the guest chair on the other side of the little table that sat next to the armchair.  
Fili had his eyes closed for several long moments, before another sigh left his lips. Bilbo waited patiently, wringing his hands nervously. Dwarrows - and Frodo - waited just inside the doorway, all of the Dwarrows looking grim. Why on earth was everyone depressed all of the sudden? Bilbo didn't like the feeling of dread he was having.  
"Kili...Kili is dead, Bilbo." Fili finally whispered. A hand flew to Bilbo's mouth as he held back a cry. His shoulders shook as he regarded the golden-haired Dwarf. Surely he must be lying..? He was about to speak, when Fili began talking.  
"After the Battle, he was severely injured. We didn't realize how extensive his injuries were. His organs were damn near pulverized by that mace of Azog's. We swore he'd live - I swore it! I wasn't there when he slipped from the world of the living. I was bedridden, still, with my head all bound up. I didn't...I wasn't able to say goodbye..." Fili recounted sorrowfully. Bilbo was crying openly, choking back sobs, by the time he'd finished. He hadn't said goodbye to Kili, either...And now he was gone.  
Dead.  
He'd left Fili alone for the death of his brother. _He'd left Fili to deal with Thorin, alone._  
"Fili...I..." _I'm sorry? You wouldn't say it to Frodo, so you shan't say it to him._ he thought, somewhat bitterly. He knew the pain of losing a loved one, and he'd hated the apologies that came with their passing. Fili no doubt had had lines of people waiting to give their condolences for the lost prince, the lost brother. He stood, and knelt in front of the prince. He placed a hand on Fili's cheek, and the other on his shoulder.  
"I'm here." he finally said, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around the blonde in a light embrace. He rested his head on Fili's shoulder, trying to will his heart to slow down. As thrilling as it was being so close to him...This was no time for inappropriate thoughts.  
Fili slowly brought his arms up around Bilbo, after a short period. They stayed there, for how long, Bilbo couldn't tell. But at some point he could feel the steady pit-pat of tears on his clothes, seeping down through to his skin. And he let himself cry, too.  
They didn't separate until he heard a soft cough. Reluctantly, he unburied his face from the thick fur on Fili's shoulder, and pulled back to look at him. He looked utterly drained, mirroring ow Bilbo felt. Fili wasn't about to let him go, it seemed, as he dipped his head and brought their foreheads together briefly. Deciding that was enough, Bilbo tilted his head back and pulled away.  
He made to get up, but Fili beat him to it, and extended a hand. Bilbo gave the barest hint of a smile before taking it, and allowing himself to be helped off his knees. He turned to find the Dwarrows had politely averted their eyes, although they looked like they were waiting for something...  
"Oh! Supper, right!" Bilbo flustered, face turning red as he flapped his hands for a moment in embarrassment. A few chuckles broke out, and the group began to head towards the dining room. Fili seemed to hesitate, on the cusp of saying something, but it seemed like he couldn't build up his courage. Odd. Then he sighed and followed after the other Dwarrows.  
Bilbo looked longingly after him for a moment, before shaking his head and heading in himself.  
"Uncle? Are you alright?" Frodo asked quietly, catching Bilbo as he passed through the doorway. A bit startled, Bilbo looked at him with wide eyes.  
"Hm? Oh... Yes, lad. Quite fine. Let us eat, shall we?" Bilbo asked, trying to feign cheeriness. He doesn't think it worked, but you can't blame him for trying. Frodo's face held worry, but he nodded and left Bilbo to his thoughts, following the Dwarrows to the dining room. Bilbo put his hands to his face, burying his face in them.  
This day had been turned upside down in a matter of hours. First, the arrival of half the company, then...Then Fili showing up with two Dwarrowlings in tow - one of which looked like they could be his, and that had made Bilbo's heart wrench something awful. Then the news of Kili's miserable death...He was drained. Completely, utterly drained.  
Releasing a deep sigh, he drug his hands away from his eyes. Thankfully he didn't have an audience this time, as everyone was intently focused on the food spread about the long table. Except Fili. The prince was staring at him blatantly. Bilbo flushed red, clearing his throat and striding to sit in his place at the head of the table, which blessedly, was on the opposite end as Fili.  
His thoughts were warring, he should be mourning for Kili, but everytime he looked at Fili he found himself thinking of how he missed him, and how much he wished he could express his love to the blonde. Because that is definitely what his heart felt for the Dwarf. What he longed to confess.  
As he got himself servings of cold cuts, cheese, some bread, and some of the roast, he busied himself making makeshift sandwiches between the slices of bread. The hot roast began to melt the thin slices of cheese, and the cold cuts cooled it down enough to chew on without burning his tongue.  
He wasn't hungry. But it was expected of him to eat with the company. His mind was elsewhere, far away. And his heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst outwards. His hands were shaking slightly, and he willed them to be still while he ate solemnly. No one seemed to be concerned for his sudden quietness, or if they were, they might be assuming he is upset because of the ill news he'd learned.  
With Fili in such close proximity, his once dull feelings had returned in full force. How could he think this way? It wasn't proper, it wasn't respectable! The Shire had very strict views on propriety, and same-gendered couples simply didn't happen. In fact, they were highly discouraged and prejudiced against. Whenever male-male or female-female couples, rare as they were, occurred in visiting races like Dwarrows or Men, they were regarded with open resentment, disgust, and for the less proper Hobbits, outright hostility.  
So the fact these thoughts weren't a passing fancy - something that was grudgingly tolerated in the tweens when young Hobbits were still learning what it meant to be proper - was horrifying for Bilbo. Everything had been bred and hammered into him from a young age, that Lads and Lasses were the appropriate pairing. Anything else was downright against Yavanna's design, some said.  
So Bilbo wasn't sure why these thoughts, these perverse thoughts, were reigning in his mind. It wasn't right for him to think like this. If his mother knew...Well. Belladonna hadn't really expressed anything that was 'normal' by Hobbit standards. Bungo on the other hand, was entirely respectable, and enforced such rules into his son.  
Oh if Bungo knew his son's range of thoughts - surely Bilbo would have a ringing ear for days from the cuff he'd received. As hard as Bilbo pushed to get rid of the thoughts - they just resurfaced twice as strong.  
He'd just have to live with them in miserable silence.  
His food was suddenly gone, and he didn't realize until just now that he'd been staring at his empty plate for a good five minutes, at the least. He looked up, and found several pairs of eyes trained on him, full of concern.  
"Bilbo? You alright?" Ori asked quietly - with a motherly tone to her voice. Bilbo gave the tiniest of nods, before straightening his back and folding his hands on the table in front of him.  
"So, what brings you all to my smial this time?" Bilbo wondered, trying to give a genuine amount of curiosity to his words. What resulted was a miserable, quiet, and forced question.  
"We've come to see about getting livestock, seeds, and starts. Erebor is prospering, but is still reliant on the neighboring villages of men, and even the Elves -" there was a mark of scorn there "for foodstuffs. We've been sent to see about procuring supplies so we may begin cultivating the land outside Erebor, now that its recovered from Smaug's flames." Dori answered, sliding out a piece of parchment, that was passed along to Bilbo.  
It was a list of what they needed to procure. Bilbo looked it over with a critical eye, and didn't find the list wanting. Cows, sheep, goats, mules, chicken and geese for livestock. Several herds or flocks of each, including many male and female specimens fit to breed. The list of seeds was extensive, including tomatoes, cucumbers, pumpkins, zucchini, squash, for vegetables. Oregano, and pepper for herbs. Apples, pears, cherries, blueberry, raspberry, blackberry, grapes, peaches, and plums for fruits. For starts they had another list; strawberries, peppermint, potatoes, rosemary, onions, lettuce, ginger, basil, garlic, and carrots.  
Overall, it seemed like a very nice way to begin farming outside of Erebor.  
"You've done your research. This would be a fine beginning to farming for the kingdom." Bilbo admitted, now thoroughly distracted from his dark thoughts. He slipped the parchment from himself, and it was given back to Dori.  
"Seems like something Balin should be here for. Why isn't he?" Bilbo wondered curiously, looking around the table for an answer.  
"He was needed at the king's side." Fili answered, his voice bitter. Bilbo's face contorted with concern.  
"Is...Something wrong?" Bilbo asked quietly. It was Dwalin who answered him.  
"Aye, laddie. King Thorin didn't want any o' us comin'. Fili least of all." the warrior growled viciously. Ori, with Yori in her lap, placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. The Dwarrowling looked at her father with a pouting lip. Clearly she wasn't happy with her father's tone. Dwalin calmed significantly at Ori's touch, murmuring something in Khuzdul to his daughter. The little girl's pout disappeared and she nodded at whatever she was told.  
"And...Why would that be?" Bilbo tentatively asked, a lump forming in his throat, already anticipating the answer. He wasn't prepared for the sheer hostility given, though.  
"Because he knew we would visit you." Fili spat, slamming his fist onto the table, making Bilbo jump. He ran a hand through his hair, and took a deep breath.  
"Ah, I suppose he's still not forgiven me, then?" he gandered. Several heads nodded solemnly.  
"None of us agree with him. Not even the ones who weren't able to come. Balin has tried many times to get his majesty to retract the banishment, but he is stubborn." Dori explained bitterly. Well, at least Bilbo had his friends' support.  
"Which is why we've come to you, instead." Bofur chipped in, cheerful despite the grim shadow that had fallen over the dining room. Bilbo managed a weak smile at that. Bofur was always dependably happy, lightening everyone's hearts of their burdens.  
"I appreciate it, truly. But you needn't have come. I'd rather none of you risk Thorin's wrath..." he murmured. If it was one thing he had to fear, it was Thorin. When he'd nearly thrown Bilbo over the side of the mountain...Bilbo was sure he'd face his untimely end. But Gandalf had come to his rescue - even Thorin wasn't willing to face the wizard's anger. Bilbo had been thoroughly shaken - literally and metaphorically. He never wanted one of his friends at the receiving end of that treatment.  
"Nah, none o' us will be in trouble. Thorin ain't that lost with the sickness no more." Bofur chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. Bilbo managed a smile at that. At least Thorin wasn't so lost to the madness anymore. Thorin's obsession had been truly terrifying at the end of things. The battle seemed to have broken the spell, but it sounded like he struggled still with lingering gold-sickness.  
"Well. Then I'd be delighted to offer you all warm beds for as long as you are here in the Shire." Bilbo offered, glancing at Frodo, who smiled back before disappearing. Surely he was off to prepare the guest rooms.  
"I've got a total of seven guest rooms. Some of you will have to share if you want a bed. I've got some sleeping sacks that we can lay out in the sitting room, if you'd rather not share with anyone." Bilbo continued, scooching his chair back so he could stand. The Dwarrows looked at him with open curiosity. Fili was watching Bilbo with an intensity that he couldn't quite identify. It unnerved him, honestly.  
He cleared his throat, and began to busy himself with gathering up the dishes to ferry them into the kitchen sink for cleaning. He was quick, desperately so. He did not want them to start throwing his mother's pottery again! Even though they hadn't broken a thing, it had made him frantic with worry.  
The Dwarrows, blessedly, helped like proper guests, not flinging the dishes about in the middle of song that was making fun of him. He still remembered the tune quite vividly. Dori was at his side when he started to scrub the dishes offering his - wait, what about Dori? Dori had always mother-henned Ori and sometimes even Bilbo...Was Dori a Dwarrowdam as well?  
Face beat red, he cleared his throat and decided to brave the waters, so to speak. Dori would be the best one to tell him about the...natures... of the rest of the company.  
"Uh...Dori?" he begun, his voice catching. Dori looked to him, eyebrows raised.  
"Yes, Mister Baggins?" the Dwarrow replied, still scrubbing at the dishes. Bilbo had ceased his motions - but at the sight of Dori continuing, he busied himself with the same. While he was working on the plate that had held the roast (goodness, the sauce had dried and it was reluctant to come off!), he cleared his throat. He looked around briefly, and nodded when he found that there were no obvious eavesdroppers.  
"W-would you be so kind...As to tell me which of you are Dams? I...I'm afraid I was ignorant on our quest, and wrongfully assumed all of you were male." Bilbo said nervously, brows furrowed and cheeks flushed. Dori laughed openly.  
"Oh Bilbo! You should have asked earlier, we've trusted you for longer than you believe. Dwarrowdams are protected, yes, but you earned your place in the company many times over. As you likely found out, Ori is a dam, with that little girl of hers and Dwalin's. Boy, did it take years for me to finally allow those two to court, don't get me started!" Dori chuckled fondly, shaking his - her? - head.  
"I myself am a Dam. Nori is male, and he wouldn't take kindly to you thinking otherwise. Let's see...Bombur is a dam, as well, bet Bombur's cooking makes more sense now, eh? And that's all." Dori completed, right as he -she! - was finishing up drying a bowl and setting it to the stacks of clean dishes. Bilbo cleared his throat, and nodded shortly.  
"Ah, thank you, Dori. I'm sorry for my assumptions. I'd never seen Dwarrowdams before, so I didn't know how to tell you all apart." Bilbo tried to explain, his words nervous and fluttery. Dori chuckled, drying her hands with a towl before clapping it onto his shoulder - nearly making him drop the dish he was scrubbing.  
"Not to worry, Mister Baggins. We hide our Dams well, so none would blame you." she chortled, a wide, toothy smile on her cheeks. It was infectious, and Bilbo found himself grinning back. They resumed cleaning in a companionable silence.  
Soon enough all the dishes were clean, and Bilbo had nothing left to do. The table had been wiped down by the other Dwarrows, Frodo had finished preparing the guest rooms, and to his surprise, everyone was gathered in the sitting room, waiting for Dori and himself to join them.  
His heart fluttered when he heard them begin to hum. He knew what was coming.  
_"Deep the halls carved in stone._  
_Golden rivers always shone._  
_Against the rock our hearts we hone._  
_The sound goes deep into our bone._

_Raven crown upon his head,_  
_O our king from his bed,_  
_There is nothing to be said,_  
_O our king, whose soul is dead._

_Deep the halls carved in stone._  
_Silver rivers always shone._  
_Against the rock our hearts we hone._  
_The sound goes deep into our bone._

_Sick with greed,_  
_His line does bleed._  
_Heavy hands with his deed,_  
_To the depths it does lead._

_Deep the halls carved in stone._  
_Copper rivers always shone._  
_Against the rock our hearts we hone._  
_The sound goes deep into our bone._

_In the shadows do we bide,_  
_Desperate at our King's side._  
_Often has he lied._  
_Soon he will be tried._

_Deep the halls carved in stone._  
_Mithril rivers always shone._  
_Against the rock our hearts we hone._  
_The sound goes deep into our bone."_

-

Bilbo was worried.  
He sat outside on his bench, puffing at his pipe filled with Old Toby. The sweet smoke did little for his frayed nerves. It was late evening now, and Ilaurenda had yet to return to her fire pit. She also wasn't responding to his calls.  
Yes, he was worried.  
Several of the Dwarrows had tried to draw him back inside, wondering what on earth Bilbo was doing out in the chill summer night. He couldn't tell them why. How could he? They'd only just gotten rid of Smaug within the past century, to see a nearly full grown drake would send them into a frenzy most likely.  
It wasn't until Fili sat down, and all but demanded an answer.  
Refusing to look at the prince, Bilbo took another inhale of his pipe, before letting it back out.  
"Bilbo, what's wrong?" Fili asked, his voice sharp and insistent. Bilbo's eyes closed, dreading the prince's reaction.  
"I'm waiting for a friend. She hasn't been home all day, and I'm worried." Bilbo replied shortly, hoping that Fili wouldn't press for more information. Seems like luck wasn't favoring him this time.  
"We can go looking for her. Just tell me what she looks like. Dwalin and I can find her." Fili insisted, his voice much softer now. Bilbo sighed, brows furrowing.  
"Um...That won't be necessary. You wouldn't find her. She's awful difficult to find when she doesn't want to be found." Bilbo murmured, rubbing his forehead. A hand fell to his shoulder.  
"Bilbo. Tell me what is really wrong." the prince mumbled quietly, squeezing his shoulder. Bilbo glanced up at him with weary eyes.  
"Promise you won't hurt her?" Bilbo urged firmly. He needed this assurance.  
"Bilbo, why would we hurt her? That's insane, we wouldn't hurt any Hobbit." Fili responded, utterly confused. And it showed in his eyes - those gorgeous, cornflower blue eyes. Bilbo slid his eyelids shut.  
"She's not a Hobbit..." Bilbo started, and Fili was quick to interrupt.  
"A dwarf? Man? Elf? Even if she's an Elf we won't hurt her. We might be a bit gruff because of the grudges between our people but -" Fili began to ramble, withdrawing his hands and gesturing wildly. It was Bilbo's turn to interrupt.  
"She's a dragon." he said quietly. Fili looked at him.  
"I didn't hear you. She's a what?" And Bilbo believed he genuinely hadn't heard.  
"I said... She's a dragon." Bilbo repeated, clearing his throat. Fili was silent for several minutes.  
"You see, this is why I didn't want to tell you!" Bilbo snapped, standing up to go for a brisk walk - he was forcibly grabbed at the arm and made to sit back down.  
"Bilbo! Please, don't go. I...It's just shocking. I knew you'd left with an egg, but I didn't think you'd still have it - her, I guess." Fili tried to explain.  
"I thought she'd grow up and go find a mountain to lie in, to be honest." Fili finished lamely. Bilbo shook his head.  
"No, no...It's much more complicated than that. You see...When she hatched, or shortly after, I'm not sure, she took my sould and bound it to hers. She'd tied to me, and I to her. Our souls are one, now. What happens to her, happens to me. She gets hurt, my body mirrors it. I get hurt, it mirrors on her body. I...My lifespan..." Bilbo couldn't continue.  
"Is that why you look like you haven't aged a day?" he asked quietly. Bilbo could only nod, he was so choked up. He stared pointedly at a spot on the ground by his feet.  
A hand rested on his chin and gently turned it. He was looking Fili straight in the eyes.  
"Your eyes aren't hazel anymore. Not completely. They've got green in the center, like a cat does sometimes." Fili murmured. Huh. That was odd. Bilbo hadn't noticed that before, perhaps it had developed after he was in Rivendell? That was the only explanation he could fathom.  
Fili's eyes...That precious blue, _had_ aged. He looked older. He was what, around 130? Bilbo wasn't sure how long Dwarrows lived, but he knew Fili still had many decades left. Thorin had been over a hundred when they went on the quest - so he likely was over two hundred, now. Perhaps Dwarrows lived several hundred years? Bilbo hoped so. He...Even if he never acted on his feelings, he would be miserable if Fili passed. And likely Fili would pass before Bilbo, due to Ilaurenda's lifespan.  
_Dear heart...Please come back to me. It's safe._ Bilbo called out, not looking away from Fili's eyes. He was lost in them, much like he had been lost in hers when she hatched. But, he supposed, he ought to pull away - it wasn't proper to be so close like this. Their faces were only a dozen or so inches apart. And...Was Fili's face coming closer?  
A great shaking of the earth rocked them apart, Fili flailing before falling down to the dirt. Bilbo was only marginally in better shape, half off the bench, clinging to the back of it.  
"What on earth was that?!" Fili gasped, eyes wide as he lay stunned on the ground. Bilbo righted himself and stood, pulling on his suspenders.  
"That. Would be Ilaurenda." Bilbo answered, looking up with a grin. Sure enough, Ilaurenda was crawling on top of the smial, dipping her head down to nuzzle Bilbo affectionately. He wrapped his arms around her massive nose, resting his forehead against the warm, yet soft, scales.  
He glanced at Fili, smirking when he found the prince standing warily, palms out in front of him like they would protect him.  
"I'm not going to eat you, you know." came the soft, rumbling voice. Bilbo chuckled and withdrew from his grip on her, patting her affectionately. Fili just about fell again, he was so startled.  
"Bilbo, what - Oh Mahal!" came a shout. Bilbo turned swiftly, spreading his arms wide to block the way to Ilaurenda.  
Bofur was the one who had cried out in alarm, and within moments the rest of the Dwarrows were behind him, shouting and brandishing weapons.  
"Enough! I'll not have you threatening my friend!" Bilbo yelled over the din. The Dwarrows looked appropriately chastised.  
"But Bilbo! That's a dragon!" Bofur hissed, eyes frighteningly wide as he hid behind the other Dwarrows who actually had their weapons, as he had come out without his mattock. The rest of the Dwarrows grumbled agreement, not putting their weapons down.  
"Yes, she is! And she is as much a friend to me as you all are! Now she hasn't harmed a soul since she was born, and she's not about to start, so if you please!" Bilbo snapped, gesturing widely. After several long moments and much nervous clearing of throats, the weapons were brought down. He could practically feel the gaze Ilaurenda was donning the company with.  
Her breath was hot, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled their scent.  
"So these are Dwarrows?" She asked, pulling her head back. Bilbo stumbled as she withdrew - he'd been leaning on her. He regained his balance with a blush warming his ears. He turned to look up at her - she was downright lounging on top of the smial, her long tail curled around the front yard and thumping the ground - she was clearly amused. Her wings were fanned wide, casting shadows over the group as she blocked out the moon.  
"Yes, my dear. These are some of the Dwarrows I've told you about." Bilbo began, before making a round of introductions that the Dwarrows were reluctant to step forward and identify themselves.  
"- And lastly, we have Crown Prince, Fili." Bilbo gestured to the blonde, who had begun to relax once he realized that Ilaurenda truly meant no harm. Ilaurenda made a sound of laughter, deep in her throat. She blinked her eyes owlishly at the company, who were still uneasy.  
"They don't look like heroes. They look weak." She chuckled, a sly grin tweaking at the corners of her lips. That really was all she could muster - so it meant she really was grinning, as the saying goes, from ear to ear.  
"Oi! Who are you calling weak?!" Gloin shouted - echoing a long forgotten shout of a similar nature at Bilbo's table at the start of their quest. Ilaurenda chortled fondly, even as all the Dwarrows - minus Fili - began shouting indignantly at the insult. Bilbo hid his grin behind a hand. She had tricked them into talking.  
"There. You've spoken to me. Is it that bad?" she asked, her eyes crinkled in mirth as she continued to grin. The Dwarrows' eyes all widened, and they shuffled about with their heads bowed.  
"Pretty!"  
Bilbo's eyes snapped to the owner of the voice. It was young Yori, desperately trying to wiggle out of her mother's grasp. Instead of setting her down, Ori moved between the Dwarrows and approached, herself. Ilaurenda dipped her head and let a wave of hot air glide over them. She settled her massive wings in at her side, and the light of the moon returned, bathing them in silver.  
Muzzle close, but not too close, she eyed the pair curiously. Yori was reaching out with both arms, wanting to touch. Ori seemed nervous, but she bravely stood her ground as Ilaurenda dipped her head further, allowing the child to run her hands all over the scales of her jutting chin. The scales on her chin were by far the largest on her body - all smooth and lacking the bumps that came with having many scales close together.  
Yori was utterly fascinated at the feel of Ilaurenda's scales. Cautiously, Ori held out a hand as well, placing it lightly on the hide. Ilaurenda's eyes slid closed at the touch. She got affection and caresses often from Bilbo and Frodo, as well as her many admirers in the Shire, but she still adored contact and was desperate for it. It was like she hoarded attention, rather than shiny or precious things. If that was true, Bilbo was more than happy to allow her that hoarding. It was safe enough.  
No one else moved to approach her, but the ice was broken, and the company stopped their shuffling and mumbling.  
"Alright then, now that no one is going to hurt anyone, can we go back inside?" Bofur whined, pulling on his hat.  
"It's bloody cold out here!" he exclaimed, shivering. Bilbo's eyes creased with silent laughter as he grinned. Ilaurenda opened one eye lazily, turning her head and from her mouth a small gout of flame burst several feet over the tops of their heads. Dwarrows shouted in alarm before realizing what was going on. The very air of the front yard was warm, now, scorched by the flames. Bilbo stifled laughter behind a hand as Bofur practically melted on the spot.  
"Oh, that's nice..." he murmured dreamily. The Dwarrows milled about, finding spots for them to sit down on the grass and cobblestones. Ilaurenda gave another bit of flame, sustaining it above their heads for several long moments. Then the flame ended, just as the air was edging on uncomfortably warm. She nestled her head on top of the smial, right above the door. Her chin jutted down over the edge, and she eyed the Dwarrows with sheer amusement.  
She'd heard many stories about all of them, and likely was remembering the deeds each individual had performed. A great paw came out, and everyone watched in alarm - Dwalin most of all - when the thick brown toepad touched the warrior's bald head.  
Ilaurenda began giggling, as if she were a hatchling all over again. Dwalin turned red, but found the pressure of the finger didn't allow him to move. He sputtered in anger, and everyone else began hooting in laughter at his expressions.  
"I heard lots about all of you. But you, Dwalin, saved Bilbo many times, I heard." she rumbled, her voice powerful but soft. She removed her paw, settling it next to her face. She dipped her head a foot or so, staring at the Dwarf with admiration in those giant emeralds she called eyes.  
"I have to thank you, for that. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Bilbo. I would have been found, and killed, in the treasure room. Or so Bilbo tells me often enough. Your kind doesn't like mine." she crooned, somewhat mournfully. Her eyes lowered and she looked at Bilbo, her eyes filled with sorrow.  
"The Hobbits of the Shire have accepted me, but my existence is, for the most part, a secret. Though how, I don't know. We have visitors from other races often enough. Men, Dwarrows, sometimes Elves. I suppose they're all to ignorant to look for a dragon hiding behind the hills, or soaring in the clouds." she pondered, dominating the night. Every single one of them was latched onto her words. Yori was back in Dwalin's lap, and Ori was scribbling something furious in her journal. What, Bilbo couldn't tell, from this angle.  
Ilaurenda seemed to notice this too, and laid still, where she had been lilting her head back and forth. Ah, Ori was probably sketching her.  
"My presence will be found out, soon enough. 61 years is a long time for a dragon to be hidden without the aid of a lair. For several years I was hidden because I was small enough to remain secluded in Bilbo's smial. But after we took Frodo in, I was allowed to roam outside. Oh how it felt to fly, truly fly! I take the fauntlings out on rides, now that I'm big enough." she continued, purposefully trying to move her jaw as little as possible while she spoke.  
"Once I'm found out, though... Well I suppose unless Black Arrows are made, I'm safe enough. My hide is stern stuff, even though I haven't got gold and gems to protect my belly. I don't need them. I have Bilbo, Frodo, and all of the Shire. They're worth more to me than anything shiny." she scoffed, blinking slowly. Bilbo's heart warmed, and pride surged through him. She was making an effort to make the Dwarrows comfortable, and by the looks of things, as Bilbo looked around, it was working.  
"You all are welcome here. And have my protection, and if you need it, my aid." she finished, a smile touching her scaly lips. She glanced purposefully at Ori, and found that the lass had stopped sketching. Noticing eyes trained on her, Ori blushed, and held the journal out for inspection.  
What was on the page was a wickedly accurate drawing of Ilaurenda as she laid there. Her eyes were trained off in the distance, towards something not drawn. Each scale was depicted with a passion easily recognized.  
"It is lovely. Bilbo will have to give you one of my scales that he's saved over the years. I was foolish, and when I was still growing, my scales not yet hard, I would play in the back garden. More often than not, I would crash into something hard or sharp, and a scale or several would fly off." she chuckled, fondly remembering those times.  
Bilbo rolled his eyes at the memories.  
Ori flustered, saying it wasn't necessary, but Ilaurenda was having none of it.  
"I insist, Mistress Ori." How did Ilaurenda know Ori was female? Bilbo bristled. How unfair. Her eyes glittered as they fell on him.  
_I can smell more than you, Bilbo. That's how._ she openly laughed, startling the Dwarrows, who had no clue what she was laughing about. She closed her eyes, reveling in the companionable silence.  
"It grows late." she finally rumbled, several minutes later. She opened her eyes and stared up at the moon - only at quarter wax.  
"Aye, that it does. It's past this one's curfew." Dwalin grumbled, although it wasn't without a touch of fondness, as Yori had already been asleep for many minutes, snoring lightly against her father's chest. Bilbo chuckled, and put his thumbs behind his suspenders. Soon enough, the Dwarrows were on their feet, stretching, and with many 'good nights' to Ilaurenda, they returned to the comfort and warmth of the smial.  
Soon enough it was only Bilbo, Ilaurenda, and Fili. Again, Fili looked like he wanted to say something, but he once more seemed to decide against it in favor of heading inside after telling Ilaurenda 'good night'. Bilbo made to follow, but Ilaurenda's huge paw suddenly blocked his entry.  
His brows knitted together, and he glowered up at her.  
"May I help you?" he asked, his voice clipped. She rarely did anything so odd as this, so clearly something was on her mind.  
_The prince is emitting... strange pheremones._ she responded, through their link. Whatever she had on her mind, was not for Dwarven ears.  
_And?_ he sighed, crossing his arms.  
_I just want you to be cautious. He's hiding something._ she admitted, drawing her head up as she heaved her bulk to her feet. Her form slunk out of sight, and he knew that she was settling around her pit - by the sound of a lash of flame and the roar of a fire not moments later.  
Everyone was acting so oddly! Couldn't they just be normal and proper?  
He huffed, shaking his head, and went indoors, shutting the door for the night - automatically latching the lock.  
Ever since that winter...He'd always locked the door upon going inside. No matter if it made him queer in the eyes of the other Hobbits, he would never have something ill befall him or his loved ones because of an unlocked door.  
The Dwarrows had retreated to their various rooms, and so had Frodo to his. Bilbo, suddenly very tired, padded quietly to his own bedroom - pausing briefly at each Guestroom to see if the doors were open and anyone needed anything.  
He stopped in front of Fili's room, the door slightly cracked - the fireplace was lit and the prince was sitting in front of it with his head in his hands, muttering something in Khuzdul. A voice answered him, speaking soothingly. Bilbo was curious, but didn't intrude. If Fili needed his companionship, he would have asked. As it was, he stood there for several minutes as conversation was exchanged. Fili drew his head up, staring into the hearth.  
Tears were rolling down his cheeks.  
Bilbo couldn't stand the sight, and he clutched at the spot above his heart as he forced himself to continue to his room. As he entered, shutting the door behind him, he wasn't aware of the pair of cornflower blue eyes watching him retreat, filled with sorrow and desparation.


End file.
